


Love Will Help You Heal

by AphroditesTummyRolls



Series: We Stan a Healthy Family Dynamic (The Kes-verse) [2]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon Compliant - Star Wars: The Force Awakens, Family feels with a side of Finn, Force-Sensitive Finn (Star Wars), Gen, Kes Dameron Never Grieved, M/M, Panic Attacks, Poe Dameron Hurts So Prettily, Poe Dameron Needs A Hug, Poe Dameron Needs his Dad, Post-Star Wars: The Force Awakens, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Rape/Non-con Elements, There's no ACTUAL sexual violence, but the metaphor is THERE
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-02
Updated: 2020-01-07
Packaged: 2021-02-27 13:06:53
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 22,774
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22087615
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AphroditesTummyRolls/pseuds/AphroditesTummyRolls
Summary: Poe is crashing after the victory at Starkiller base, no longer able to compartmentalize his trauma on The Finalizer. He's not sleeping, he's not himself, he's wracked with nightmares and persistent headaches. His squadron is worried about him, Leia is worried about him, everybody knows something's wrong.It isn't until Leia finally takes action that anything starts to change-- but it'll get worse before it gets better.
Relationships: Kes Dameron & Poe Dameron, Poe Dameron & Leia Organa, Poe Dameron & Rey, Poe Dameron/Finn, Shara Bey/Kes Dameron
Series: We Stan a Healthy Family Dynamic (The Kes-verse) [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1598431
Comments: 177
Kudos: 611





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Adai](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21431833) by [geewritessometimes](https://archiveofourown.org/users/geewritessometimes/pseuds/geewritessometimes). 



> Oh hello. 
> 
> I didn't hate Rise of Skywalker, so don't think that, but I have some PRESSING issues with it, and I wanted to make myself feel better with some Post-TFA fic. 
> 
> Poe had a whole fucking backstory that somehow got scraped in Rise of Skywalker so he could have a shady past and an ex girlfriend. So I wrote, like, 15000 words about Poe's relationship with his dad and his super queer crush on his sleeping beauty, Finn. 
> 
> Dedicated to Oscar Isaac and John Boyega. Co-Generals of this ship. BIG RESPECT. 
> 
> If you like this, please leave a comment! This fic is just about done, I'll just be updating chapter by chapter.
> 
> **I forgot to mention! The use of the Yavinic holiday Adai, and my envisioning of Yavinic culture is based on mycenaeantholostomb’s fic, Adai. It’s really sweet and lovely, and you can find the link above!
> 
> DISCLAIMER: I do not own anything in this Star Wars sandbox! None of these characters are my creative property. Disney and Lucasfilm are the owners of this universe, and I am simply writing for my own enjoyment. I DO NOT MAKE ANY MONEY OFF OF MY WRITING.

Every inch of him throbbed, the last dregs of whatever the interrogation droid had injected him with still pumping through his bloodstream. He was so tired. How long had it even _ been? _ Getting captured on Jakku felt like a hazy dream, as if it was  _ weeks  _ ago. 

No one was coming for him. He knew that much—he’d probably be mad if they endangered the resources to try—but he couldn’t help but wish anyway. Death seemed so close, like a cold hand on his shoulder, by his side in the recirculated air of the Star Destroyer. 

He wished they’d just hurry up. His drug-addled, sleep deprived mind didn’t know if he was asking for rescue or death. Maybe they were the same thing now. 

Dying a martyr. At least it suited the image—Poe Dameron,  _ Poster Boy of the Resistance _ . 

The urge to vomit was almost too much to resist. He couldn’t stop trembling, unbearable cold and heat taking over him in waves. He was losing his mind, he could feel it all slipping away. 

He never considered the possibility that he could fail, but the idea of giving up was so tempting. Fear had crept over him slowly since he’d been shackled in The Finalizer’s interrogation chamber, however long ago that was, until it seemed like it was all that was left of him. He could end all of this—it might be the last bit of power he had.

He took a long, shuddering inhale that rattled along his broken ribs and through his bruised throat. He remembered his training. He made General Organa a promise. 

He would die before he failed. 

_ The Resistance will not be intimidated by you, The Resistance will not be intimidated by you, The Resistance… the res… _

The door to his chamber slid open again, but it wasn’t General Hux this time. It was much, much worse. 

_ “You’ve held out valiantly.”  _ Ren’s monotone shivered up Poe’s spine. The faceless mask watched him from the threshold, and Poe put every last bit of his resolve into constructing one of his own. He’d been trained for this. 

_ The Resistance will not be intimidated by you… _

He bit down on the inside of his cheek until he tasted fresh blood in his mouth, forcing his face to remain emotionless as Ren took slow, measured steps into the room. The door sealed with a sharp release of air and Poe nearly jumped at the sound. 

_ “You can restrain your expression as much as you like—I can still feel your fear. It makes no difference to me.”  _

Looking up into the void of the mask, Poe was sure his face was slipping, anyway, but he refused to indulge Kylo.  _ The Resistance will not be intimidated by you… _

“The Resistance will not be intimidated b-by you—”

One gloved hand shot up, gripping his jaw hard enough to feel his bones grind together and Poe could barely keep from flinching. He just stared at his battered reflection in the black mask. 

_ “What’s your name?”  _

Why did the First Order give a shit about his name? His bruised brain took a long moment to catch up. 

_ “ _ What _ is your _ name _?” _

“The R-Resistance will not be in-intimidated by you.” His jaw ached, bruising under the gloved hand, but he would be dead soon anyway. BB-8 was the one with the mission now. 

_ “I don’t need you to tell me. I can learn anything about you just as easily as I can sense your fear.”  _ The grip on his face was suddenly gone, and Poe was expecting to be smacked, electrocuted, injected—he was used to that by now. But, Ren only lifted his hand to his forehead, fingers outstretched like he could reach right into Poe’s mind. 

And, then he did. 

At first it was only a small pressure on his skull, but blunt projectiles soon dug deep into his brain. He probed through Poe’s head until he felt like he might  _ explode _ , his pulse pounding so loudly in his ears that he couldn’t even hear his own screams. 

He couldn’t move a muscle, every part of him was tensed, paralyzed under Ren’s all-consuming power. Poe had only  _ heard  _ of using the Force to probe someone’s mind, his pulsing brain only realizing that it was happening to him once old memories began flashing before his eyes—  _ The General, standing in her office, a slight smile twisting her lips as he debriefed her after his first battle; Snap and Jess, running to greet him on the tarmac, calling out his name and waving him home off the gangway.  _

_ “Poe’s back—Dameron, I’ve never seen a maneuver like that—" _

He shook his head desperately, trying to clear away the vision of D’Qar, sweating against the effort to push the memories back into the shadows of his mind, away from Kylo Ren’s relentless grip. 

_ His father’s face swam in front of him, then—a memory of home on Yavin IV. Just before he left for the Resistance. “Be safe, Poe.”  _

_ You failed him,  _ he thought miserably, _ You're leaving him all alone in the world... _

The pressure on his brain was suddenly relieved, a sob wrenching itself from his throat as he finally managed to breathe. Stars popped in his vision, the shackles making it impossible for him to curl in on himself as he dry-heaved, choking on the cold, dry air. 

His trembling shook the contraption he was chained to while Kylo remained unmoved, his gaze penetrating through his mask. Poe was all but completely laid bare. 

_ “Dameron. That’s a Yavinic name—I thought your kind were all wiped out by the Sith. It was generations ago.” _

Poe barely mustered the strength to breathe, wheezing and weak. 

He still managed to find a reserve of strength to spit the blood in his mouth right in Ren’s stupid mask. 

“H-hiding beh-hind a mask means… you must be either… just unorig’nal, or jus’- jus’ real ugly…” 

Instead of responding, Ren only raised his gloved hand again and Poe’s muscles seized. The pressure was back, driving even deeper than before, and Poe could only shiver against the violation. Agony spread from his desperate brain through every inch of his body. He could feel the hot tears on his face, the sweat on his brow, the screams tearing from his throat, but all he heard were the memories of  _ home _ . 

_ Yavinic songs echoing through the jungle, holidays from his childhood, his father, his mother _ —they all filled his mind, tangled around the pain that Ren sent radiating out through the Force into him. It settled in his bones, burning like a brand over his heart. 

_ “Do you see how easy this is for me, now? Your resistance is only making this more painful for you.”  _

He couldn’t withstand this much longer. He wouldn’t last to the end of the hour-- he wasn’t strong enough. 

Hopefully, he would be dead before the location of BB-8 could be dug out of his mind. 

_ “I’ll ask this one time, Dameron: where is the map?”  _

His pulse hammered in his ears, the power of the Force in his veins pushing out against his skin like Ren could rip him apart at the seams. 

BB-8  _ couldn’t _ be found. The Resistance  _ couldn’t _ be found. 

This wasn’t about Poe. 

Using all the energy he had left, he found Ren in his mind edging closer toward his droid and his memories of Jakku, and he pushed as hard as he could. He held his dearest memories like shields for Ren to blast through-- focused on  _ the feeling of flying, perched on his mother’s lap in her old A-Wing, every song, every temple on Yavin, his Father’s proud smile, learning how to properly apply the body paint for his first Adai festival _ —he sacrificed it all to Ren’s power. He had to protect The Resistance, BB-8 and the General and his friends. 

It was one last fight. The galaxy rested on Poe’s success. 

* * *

When the Falcon landed in the field outside his house, Kes had been living on the fumes of hope. He counted down every day of every week, waiting for a comm request, a holo-message, any proof of life from Poe. Shara’s tree swayed at the edge of the garden every day, and he chose to see it as a sign—she was keeping their boy safe, he was  _ fine _ . Surely, if Poe… If something had happened to Poe, The Force Tree – the one he’d grown up watering, playing under, where they’d buried his mother – would’ve _ done something _ . 

It was more than he could handle, when the Falcon—not Black One -- landed at the edge of his land and Poe didn’t come bounding out. 

Luke hadn’t been the person he expected—everyone with half a head and wasn’t living under a rock knew that Luke hadn’t been around in years. But, no one on that blasted old freighter was his son, and Kes couldn’t breathe, couldn’t speak, couldn’t  _ think _ beyond the distinct, terrible memory of the last time Luke Skywalker had come to this house with news of Kes’s family. 

“Hello, Kes – I’m sorry it’s been so long.” 

“S-Skywalker,” he ground out, not wanting to know – he’d rather take no news as good news than hear if… “I’ll kill you right here if you’ve come by to deliver me another body.” 

If he’d been in better control of himself, he would’ve been surprised at the vitriol he still felt, so long after he thought he’d forgiven Luke for his part in Shara’s death. But, if this was true, he wouldn’t have a shred of good faith left for the man.

Luke’s hands were up in some cautious show of surrender, when a young voice broke into Kes’s worst fears like sun through a monsoon cloud. 

“Kes  _ Dameron _ ? Are you Poe’s dad?” a slip of a girl came walking down the gangway, casual, smile on her face. 

“Have you heard from him?” Kes didn’t try to hide his desperation. They were well past that point. 

She looked taken aback, gaping for a moment before sputtering out “I mean, I – yes. I comm’d into base just a few weeks back, he’s been watching out for Finn. He fired the last shots into Starkiller Base! He’s a hero.” 

The relief was unlike anything he’d felt since the Death Star and the Empire fell. It swept over him like a wave, the Force Tree continued to sway in a silent  _ I told you so _ , but Kes just gripped the fence to his garden and let out a strangled noise. He let himself finally breathe, a few tears sticking to his lashes. 

“I take it you  _ haven’t _ heard from Poe.” Luke surmised uselessly. 

“Nearly  _ 2 months _ of radio silence.” Kes rasped, clearing his throat and finally greeting his guests with a weary smile “It’s good to see you, old friend. I’m sorry about… I’ve been pretty high strung. C’mon in, then – your little friend clearly has a story about my boy, and I was just about to crack open a bottle of Alderaanian wine.” 

The decision to take the position they were offering wasn’t particularly difficult, if only to get a good look at his son for himself – maybe give him a strong smack upside the head for scaring his old man like that. 

Poe was a  _ hero  _ of The Resistance. He’d taken down something that seemed unbeatable. Kes drank more than he meant to, relief, joy, and pride leaving him nearly floating, looking out the window at Shara’s tree and knowing she was proud, too. 

So, they stayed a week. Young Rey got to train with Luke, meditate under one of the only Force Trees in existence. Kes learned about poor Han, and that nasty business with his and Leia’s son. He showed Rey Shara’s old A Wing, and Poe’s many scrapped speeders in the barn. She was sweet. 

He’d always said that if he and Shara had had more time, they’d have had a daughter. They’d have had to expand their house they’d have had so many kids. 

Rey was very sweet. 

Boarding The Falcon and leaving his home after so long made him feel old. His first thought had been  _ But who’ll tend the garden? _ And he just had to laugh. Shara would’ve called him an old homebody and told him to get off his ass. It was about time he did it, he supposed. 

The galaxy needed him – and so did their boy. 

* * *

The last blaster shots into the core of Starkiller mingled with his screams, with Yavinic songs, and his dad’s warm voice -- a Force-like pressure squeezed his muscles tight until he felt he might explode, a cry turning into a whimper as he bolted up in bed. His head pounded, the last tendrils of the dream pulsing through his skull behind his eyes. 

BB-8 charged in the corner, the soft blinking light of his sleep mode helping to level out Poe’s desperate breathing. 

He had gotten Starkiller—they had won. They had  _ won _ . 

But he still felt like he’d failed. Ren had gotten through, leaving the mark of his probe on every fiber of Poe’s being, every memory in his head. 

Poe fumbled his way out of the tangle of sweaty sheets, slipping into his trousers and pulling a shirt over his head with trembling hands. His heart continued its mad hammering in his chest, just like it did every morning. If he managed to sleep at all, that is. 

The mess hall was blissfully empty as he padded through the midnight quiet of Headquarters, just like it was every night. 

Poe’s nights always seemed to go the same way, with little variations here and there. He’d wake up, try not to throw up (he didn’t always succeed), stop by the mess hall for his first cup of caf, and find  _ something _ to keep him busy. 

He had repainted Black One four times in the two weeks since Starkiller. He had rebuilt her engine even more. He had spent late nights and early mornings recording Holo-messages, notifying the families of his dead pilots. 

One of the only things that stayed the same, though, was walking through the sterile white halls of the medbay to Finn’s room-- Private Room 12, at the end of the hangar-side wing, closest to the jungle. His friend always looked so  _ peaceful _ . He was always sleeping with a heavy, dreamless calm that made Poe feel like his life wasn’t  _ completely _ falling apart— at least Finn’s vitals were strong. 

That night was no different. The caf was going cold in his hand, but Poe was busy watching his friend’s chest gently rising and falling with the ventilator, listening to that strong, steady heartbeat through the monitor. 

“ _ Poe Dameron _ , why am I not surprised?” A familiar voice sighed from the doorway. He made a conscious effort not to jump in surprise—he should’ve seen this coming, after all. It was hardly the first time she’d found him here. 

“Hey Doc.” He flashed her a half a grimace—soft and a little pleading, like he didn’t have the energy for anything else—before looking down into his caf. He knew what she was going to say, and he wasn’t sure if he could handle it. He knew he looked like Bantha shit, he didn’t need anyone else to tell him that. 

“You look like a steaming pile of Bantha shit.”

_ Nice _ , he thought  _ very colorful, she’s a poet now  _ “You’re still calling me hot, Doc, I’m flattered — how’s Finn doing?” 

She huffed a breath that might have been a laugh in a previous life where she had a sense of humor. “He’s the same as he was when you asked me last night— the spinal damage is nearly healed. He’ll be stiff and weak when he wakes up, but a few weeks of intensive physical therapy should have him back on his feet. I’ve never seen someone take to the bacta so well. Your friend’s lucky.”

He nodded. The unchanged, optimistic words set something at ease in his tightly knotted gut. Finn’s chest rose and fell, his short black lashes curling away from the slope of his dark cheek. Poe missed his full lips and his blinding smile. People talked about Poe’s smile, but he had  _ nothing _ on Finn. 

“— _ Commander _ , are you listening to me?”

“Huh?” he pulled his gritty, tired gaze from his friend to look back at the doctor’s unamused face. 

Her lips were pursed, and her eyebrow was raised. She almost looked like his mom used to -- he used to sneak out of bed, too late for any little boy, looking for a snack or a story, and he knew he could find her in the garden with that look on her face before she humored him with whatever it was -- an invisible fist clenched around his brain when he thought about it. That used to be something that would make Poe smile, but a spike of shame punched into him instead. 

The feeling only got worse when the Doc’s expression softened. She was  _ worried _ about him—just like Snap, and Jess, and even The General--

“I asked if you were feeling alright. Poe, are you sleeping at  _ all _ ?”

He paused, swallowed, and tried to hide it all in feigned nonchalance “Yeah, Doc—I’m fine.” 

“Yeah?” she was, if possible, even less amused than before “You’re here _every_ night — I might not always catch you at it, but I check the logs. At first, I thought you were on some sort of night shift, but The General said you’re on leave to recuperate after Starkiller. Usually, people _go_ _home_.”

“There’s too much to do around here—”

“How’s Kes?”

He tried to hide the flinch at his dad’s name, but his level of success was written all over Kalonia’s face. He’d failed again. 

The phantom pains of Ren’s presence in his mind curled through his blood like smoke. He couldn’t even picture Kes’s face without the urge to cry. 

“He’s alright. He fought in the first rebellion; he knows where I’m needed.”

There was a long pause, and Poe was just waiting for her to call his bluff—he hadn’t comm’d in to Yavin IV since before Jakku. Dad was probably worried sick, Poe never used to go longer than a  _ week _ without contact. 

It had been nearly 2 months. 

Dr. Kalonia sighed “Have a good night, Poe. Don’t forget to get  _ some _ sleep—can’t have a pilot who can’t steer straight.” 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is shorter, just a little continuation of the first. Let me know what y'all think! I love hearing from you folks! 
> 
> Enjoy this sad Poe Dameron moment.

Somehow, dawn crept through the jungle and over the base very slowly and all at once, fingers of golden light peeking in Finn’s window. Too soon for him it was broad daylight, while Poe was dozing in his chair by Finn’s side, contemplating whether to shower and head to the mess hall, or just go straight to the hangar. 

His decision was made for him when he tried running a hand through his thick curls and was repulsed enough that he nearly _ran_ back to his quarters to shower. 

All it took was a moment under the spray for him to know he’d made the right choice. Showers had a damn near _magical_ property of making him feel awake-- even in the pits of illness, seconds from death, or 2 weeks without a decent night’s sleep, Poe could probably act like a respectable commander if he’d had a hot shower. 

The hustle and bustle of the base, still high on its victory, kept Poe busy. He was swimming upstream in a river of caf, but BB-8 was rolling around his feet and Black One’s engine grease was on his hands, so Poe could pretend. He could make himself be awake and alert and _alive_. 

It was a _good_ day. It was an even better day once the Falcon requested permission to land, roaring onto base with that distinctive rumble that told Poe the old freighter needed _several_ new parts. _Again_. It was music to his ears. 

Poe was down on the tarmac in moments, the edges of his ever-present headache staved off a bit longer as the familiar voice of Rey lilted through the jungle breeze. 

He took no more than three steps toward the sound before Snap caught his arm, though. And he didn’t mean to flinch, he didn’t mean to jump -- it would sound stupid for him to tell the truth to his Captain’s questioning gaze, though. _I forgot that I was a person with a body, I forgot that other people could see me or touch me_ his sleep-deprived brain supplied, but he didn’t even know if that made sense to him, let alone anyone else.

They just looked at each other for a second before Snap huffed out a sound that wasn’t even pretending to be anything but concerned. 

“You okay?”

“Yup.” he popped the p on it, following it up with an automatic grin that just made him feel a little weaker. 

Snap gave him a look that said _C’mon, how long have we known each other?_ but Poe didn’t cave. 

He sighed, nodding at Poe’s expectant silence “General’s requesting you in her quarters — said to get there quick as you can. Sounded urgent.” 

He swallowed around the déjà vu that said the last time this happened he was sent to Jakku. He breathed deep and reminded himself that a new mission was just what he wanted (what he'd asked for for _weeks_ ). Poe looked back at the Falcon for just a second before turning around toward Leia’s quarters.

“C’mon Buddy.” 

BB-8 gave a worried trill and a whir, but Poe only rolled his eyes. 

“It’s gonna be fine—”

Another beep and trill that sounded distinctly more concerned cut him off. 

“Yeah, I _know_ Jakku was bad, I _remember_ , but we did our jobs.” 

A sharp beep told him just how the droid felt about that. 

“ _Hey_ —I did what I signed up to do, and so did you. _C’mon_ , let’s go!” he gave his astromech a little nudge with his foot, shaking away the lingering feeling of shackles around his wrists. 

The idea of getting back into hyperspace made him itch under his skin with the need to _move_ —he’d been practically _begging_ for an assignment for so long. He couldn’t just sit around feeling useless when he could be trying to get back into the fight. The First Order was still licking its wounds, the time to strike was _now_. Leia didn’t seem to see things the same, but the call to the General’s quarters sent hope rushing through him. 

There were quiet voices behind The General’s door, and Poe knocked lightly even after he heard Rey’s voice on the other side. 

“Come in, Poe.” 

The room was more relaxed than he’d expected of an “urgent meeting”, not to mention more crowded. He counted heads— a scruffy looking man next to Leia, and one more in the corner by the door, but he was cut off when Rey rushed to meet him and BB-8. He grinned when he saw his friend, letting her throw herself into his arms, squeezing her tight. It was his most genuine smile in days, and they both looked each other over for injuries as they pulled away. 

“What’re you doing here?” he grinned. 

“Training’s going well, so we stopped by to drop off a new recruit back here at base.” Her smile slipped as she studied him, and Poe kind of hated the Force. Everyone saw right through him “Are you alright?”

He shrugged, grinning his most distracting grin “I’m just going out of my _mind_ waiting for _something_ to do around here.” He gave Leia a pointed look that he hoped was charming enough to not get himself smacked for. 

She just nodded like she knew something he didn’t, and he hated her and loved her at the same time.

“How’s Finn?”

“He’s healing up like a dream—Doc says she’s never seen anything like it.” He breathed out, his stomach flipping at the mention of their friend, thinking of the hours he’d spent with him that morning. 

“We should visit after this.”

“Yeah, if The General doesn’t have some sort of _mission_ in mind—” he glanced over at her again, where she was smiling softly at them “I was told this was an _urgent_ meeting?” 

It seemed more like a reunion than anything else and his usually boundless confidence dwindled, leaving him to phrase it all as a question. 

_Kriff_ , he needed to get some sleep. 

“It’s not _that_ kind of meeting, Commander. We have a new member of the Strategic Sector. I’ve asked him to be here as one of my personal consults—he’s here to help us pick our next move after our success at Starkiller Base. You’ve had so much to say about that, I thought you should meet professionally. I think you might know each other, though.” 

“ _Commander_? I’ve missed a lot.” A familiar voice chuckled just behind him. 

He turned on his heel like he’d been electrified, suddenly flooded with the memory of Kylo’s Force probe pushing him to his limits, when he'd focused with all his might on that _man_ and that _voice_. Back when Poe had sacrificed his memories to protect his failed mission... He felt paralyzed where he stood in Leia's office, his muscles aching with the phantom energy of the Force.

BB-8 whirred excitedly, rolling over to the man in the doorway so fast that they skidded on the rug. 

Usually, he’d grin. He’d wrap his arms around that man even harder than he’d hugged Rey. He had missed him, he'd _needed_ him _so_ _much_ lately. He’d missed his voice, and he’d missed his laugh, his grin, the sparkle in his eyes—Poe had missed _home_ so much. 

_“Dad?”_

“Poe.” Kes looked older. His forehead was creased with stress and sun, his hair was more silver than black, there was a light stubble on his cheeks and a set to his lips that Poe hadn’t seen since he was leaving for the Resistance, when he told him to _be_ _safe_. “You look tired, Kiddo.”

“You look old.” He smirked, trying to distract himself from the headache creeping back up behind his eyes. He tried to look at Kes without being swarmed by the memories of him that Ren had tainted but seeing him again felt like staring into a supernova. 

They stood there, a whole room apart, for a long moment where Poe felt distinctly awkward. He swallowed, shoving down the surging anxiety and shame, bracing himself as Kes crossed the distance and slammed his son into a hug. 

Kriff, his head was about to split open, it hurt so badly. He grounded himself into reality, staring into the pattern on Leia’s rug— doing anything to keep himself from getting sucked back into the memories of The Finalizer that seeing Kes—his own _father_ \-- had triggered. 

Poe _hated_ Kylo Ren more than _anything_. 

Kes gripped him like his life depended on it, one hand cupping the back of his throbbing skull, the other squeezing him around the ribs. Poe returned the embrace with weak, tired arms. He wished he could savor this moment, but he had to pull back before the pain was too much. Kes let him, confusion written all over his face, tears in his eyes. 

The potent toxin of the shame Ren had branded into him spread through every vein and settled deep in his chest. It was like one of his nightmares, awake and surrounding him. He’d _failed_ the Resistance, and he’d _failed_ as a son. No amount of success at Starkiller Base was enough to make up for all that he’d been too weak to resist. 

“You haven’t comm’d home in 7 weeks. When The Falcon touched down, I thought…” the hand on the back of his head ran through his hair, and Poe reluctantly pulled away. The pain was blinding, he felt sick. “ _Why?_ Why didn’t you comm, Poe?”

“I’m _sorry_ , Dad, I…” he trailed off, not knowing what to say, trying to hide his trembling hands “Why’re you here? After Mom, you said you’d never come back—”

“Don’t you change the subject—”

“ _Please_ , Dad, I can’t right now.” He swallowed against the irritation clawing up his throat; his voice was a little ragged, and his entire day had changed so fast that it nearly gave Poe whiplash. He didn’t want to start a fight—his head was pounding. The exhaustion that he thought he’d shaken hung on his shoulders all over again like a dead weight. 

The silence that fell over The General’s quarters nearly took the breath out of him—and if that didn’t do it, then the shocked, hurt look on his Dad’s face did. 

“An old friend visited… to answer your question.” Kes broke the tension with a wobbly smile, gripping Poe’s shoulder like he was going to float away. He gestured over to Luke (who was watching Poe more closely than he liked) “He brought Rey to train with your mother’s tree and stayed to drink my booze and guilt me into returning to the fight.”

“Sounds like a terrible houseguest.” Poe managed a feeble joke and shot Luke a pinched smirk. He had some vague recollection of that cloak, those eyes, and that lightsaber from long ago. He couldn’t quite place it, but his head hurt too badly to think. 

Luke chuckled “It’s a pleasure to meet the greatest pilot in the galaxy-- now that _I’m_ retired, of course. I haven’t seen you since you were a little boy—the family resemblance is striking.” 

Poe let his fake grin fall, too tired to hold it “I’ve been told, yeah.” 

All his life, that’s what he’d been told. He looked so much like his father, or that he was his mother’s boy through and through, or that his parents must be so _proud_ . The moment he’d enlisted, Leia had looked at him and said, “ _You must be Kes and Shara’s boy.”_

That was what he’d always been— _Kes and Shara’s boy._ He was a legacy in the Rebellion, the Poster Boy of the Resistance, but what was he now? He couldn’t look his own father in the eyes, he couldn’t think about his home without searing pain, and he had _failed_ the people he had sworn to protect. 

He felt like Ren’s presence in his head had never left. Like every memory he had was scarred by him. Without those memories of his mom and dad, of growing up between his ancestors’ temples, things _worth_ fighting for-- now he couldn’t even think about them without the desperate clench of anxiety in his gut and the agonizing reminder of the Force tunneling through his gray matter. 

“Poe, are you alright?” Rey’s voice pulled him out of his haze, the pain in his head getting the best of him “I can feel your pain through the Force, what is it?” 

“Just a headache…” he grunted, forcing himself to stand up straight and be _normal_. 

Everyone was looking at him. Kes was eyeing him like he was still a little boy trying to lie. Luke and Rey had that stupid _Force-User X-Ray Vision_ that always made Poe feel so _kriffing_ _exposed_ —

Leia was the one who spoke up, though. 

“Still? Are these the same headaches you’ve had since Jakku?” 

_You go to the medbay for one migraine, and she never lets you live it down,_ he mentally griped, wanting to get swallowed up by the floor. 

“What happened at Jakku?” Kes jumped in “Last time you comm’d you were heading Jakku, that was _weeks_ ago—” 

“It’s fine, Dad, it’s really just a headache.”

“Wasn’t Jakku where you got captured?” 

_Kriff, Rey_ —he growled, rolling his eyes and only succeeding in sending a spike of pain through his skull. Poe’s head pounded, the tension in the room rising higher and higher. So much for an urgent meeting-- or a good day, for that matter. This is just another mess. 

_“Captured?”_

“It’s not as bad as it sounds, Dad—” he tried to de-escalate, breathing deep and forcing himself to clear his head for the sake of the conversation that was apparently happening. 

“Not _bad?_ —”

“Kes—” Leia tried to keep Dad off the warpath. BB-8 was beeping and whirring wildly, rolling up and pushing Poe toward his dad until Poe nearly kicked his own droid.

 _“Dad!”_ he finally cried, tugging his sweaty hands through his hair and just wanting everyone to _shut up_. 

The silence was drowned out by his pounding heart in his ears. He swallowed his rising panic like he was going into battle, and fixed his eyes on his poor old dad. 

His head felt like it was going to _explode_ \-- he was too exhausted for this, for _any_ of this, and suddenly this didn’t even feel like a reunion. It was an _intervention_. 

Poe didn’t need an intervention—he was _fine_. 

“I was taken captive by the First Order at Jakku a couple months ago. I’m fine, I made it, I did my job.” 

Kes was looking at him like he didn’t even recognize him, and Poe’s heart squeezed in his chest, wondering if he really looked that rough. Had the war changed him that much? 

“Poe, you… How long? What did they do to you? _Son_ …” Kes was barely breathing, hand outstretched to him, but Poe couldn’t bring himself to meet him. He still felt Ren’s grip on his mind making his muscles stiff, rooted to the spot. He couldn’t speak, reality becoming harder to parse out from his memories. He shook his head. 

“I did my _job_. I did what had to be done.” It was all he could say, all he had been able to tell himself in the weeks since it happened. His voice was hoarse, and he didn’t sound like himself. He didn’t feel like himself, either. 

“Is this why you haven’t comm’d? Did they hurt you? You can’t be the hero all the time, Poe, you’re too reckless—” 

“We’re at war, this isn’t the time for safety—this isn’t even about me! This is about freedom for the galaxy! I did my _kriffing job_ \-- ” he was openly shaking now, raging at his dad with the sudden surge of adrenaline that his panic sent thrumming through him. His muscles were stiff, paralyzed by the memory of The Finalizer and Ren and the _Force_ —

“It’s not your job to single-handedly save the galaxy—" 

“Are we _ever_ going to stop having this fight?” his brain pulsed, his breathing quivered with the splitting pain, and he wasn’t yelling anymore. He didn’t have the will to yell, not now, not at Kes. The anger had ripped through Poe and left his shell behind as quickly as it came, like it always did when he and his dad fought. He didn't have the _energy_ to fight right now, the pain in his head cresting again to let lose a wave of trembling agony. Reality was separating between Leia’s quarters and Ren’s interrogation chamber—he had to go. He just had to _go_. 

“Poe?” Rey’s voice echoed into his brain, but he didn’t have the time to do anything but shove his way out of the room and propel himself down the corridor. 

He wasn’t thinking. He didn’t have the remaining brain cells to think about _anything_ , all of them consumed by the blaze of memories and rage that was Kylo Ren and The Finalizer. If he had been in more control, he would’ve been impressed by his ability to appear somewhat calm as he jogged down the winding white halls, but he was in a trance-like haze of twisted visions, his skull throbbing with _his mother’s voice singing songs in Yavinic, Ren’s menacing monotone gloating about how the Sith slaughtered his people, the feeling of his Dad holding him in those first months after Shara died_ —Poe had no control. 

When he managed to emerge from his attack enough to suck in a desperate breath, he recognized the soft white walls of Finn’s room. He was in the medbay. Reality sank back in with every step he took closer to his unconscious friend, finding an anchor to clutch to when his trembling hand found Finn’s slack fingers on top of the covers. 

Poe focused on the warm hand under his and willed himself to breathe. _I’m in the medbay on D'Qar._ He _repeated_ it like a mantra _I’m in the medbay on D’Qar, I’m with Finn, I’m with Finn, I’m safe, I’m okay, I’m okay…_

The headache didn’t subside for several long minutes that felt like hours and Poe gasped in deep, shuddering inhales, dropping himself heavily on the edge of Finn’s bed. He felt tears on his cheeks as he finally came out of it, sitting hunched over Finn’s thoroughly crushed hand in his lap. 

There were people in the hall, Poe could hear them now that his heartbeat was rightfully in his chest instead of his ears. He could hear the Doc and someone else speaking in low tones like he was some kind of skittish animal. 

Then, there was a _whoosh_ and a click that said the door had closed, and he couldn’t restrain himself from flinching at the sound. He braced himself to hear Ren break the silence. 

“Poe? _Poe!_ ”

That person _definitely_ wasn’t Kylo Ren. There was a gentle touch to his knee, someone kneeling in front of him. 

He wasn’t sure if he could face the look on Rey’s face that he knew was there. She'd want him to answer questions, she’d want him to talk, and the idea left him with a bone-deep desperation to get out of this base and back to the skies. 

He kept his eyes on his lap once he managed to open them, too weak to face his friend. Instead, he carefully studied Finn’s hand in his, focusing again on his breathing. 

“Poe, _please_ look at me!” Rey pleaded, rubbing her hand against his thigh. He tried to properly speak, but only choked out a strangled sigh, squeezing the dark hand in his. 

And Finn _squeezed_ _back_. 

First, it was just one finger curling around his. Then two, and a _third_ , stretching and flexing until Finn was gripping his hand as tightly as he could. Poe’s gaze flew up to look at the bed, nearly breaking his own neck with the force of it. His heart was full to bursting, seeing a bleary pair of dark brown eyes looking back at him. 

“P… Po—” he cleared his scratchy throat and squeezed Poe’s hand again “Wha’s wrong, Poe? Rey?” 

Poe couldn’t breathe yet again, but it was _good_ this time. It was all _Finn_ this time. Finn’s _voice_ and his _eyes_ and his _hand_ squeezing Poe’s like he needed it to live. 

“No-Nothing. _Kriff_ , Buddy—Welcome _back_ .”


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, this dream sequence is kinda rough, just a little warning. Poe is super not okay. 
> 
> I don't know if it's prevalent enough in the story for me to need to tag this as "Non-Con Themes", but I do headcanon Poe's trauma to be similar to that of someone who has been sexually violated, and that's more evident in this chapter. I mean, on The Finalizer he was held down against his will and had someone forcibly enter his body to take what they wanted from him. I'm a sexual assault survivor, and I was immediately drawn to Poe because I related to this fact. 
> 
> This story doesn't include a plot point in which Poe was literally sexually assaulted, but that doesn't mean that he wasn't effectively raped. If, after reading this far, you think that these themes are prevalent enough to necessitate a tag, please write me a little comment. I just want to make sure that people who might be triggered have adequate warning! 
> 
> Thank you for all the great comments! As always, leave me some encouragement if you like it!! Enjoy!

The dream was different that night.

_ The sky was red, and the trees were silhouetted against its ominous backdrop. Poe was surrounded by seemingly endless trees, everything around him in shades of ashy blackness that his mind said should be verdant and green. _

_ His heart pounded and his head started to ache, pressure compounding on all sides of his skull… like a storm was coming. _

_ Or like Ren, he thought, flexing his hands to keep from shaking and reaching for a blaster that wasn’t there. _

_ “Poe!” a familiar voice cried, distorted but still recognizable, reverberating from tree to tree and making it impossible to tell where it was coming from. _

_ “Finn?” Poe called into the bloody red void. _

_ There was a flash of a red lightsaber in the corner of his eye, a black cloak between the trees— suddenly, recognition slammed into him. He knew this place. Dense jungle surrounded him, trees he had dodged between and climbed as a child.  _

_ What was Finn doing on Yavin IV? _

_ Poe followed the sound of Finn’s voice calling out to him-- at least he  _ thought  _ it was. Was that Finn? The ruins of old temples dotted the shadowy landscape, the sun blotted out and leaving him to grope in the red and black world around him. _

_ The temple he’d grown up in was easy to find, his feet guiding him on the path worn down by centuries of feet—his own, his parents, his grandparents, and his great grandparents all under his boots as he tripped over stones and roots… _

_ But the space where his temple used to be was only a ruined pile of bricks—it looked ancient and forgotten, strangled by vines and moss… _

_ "Poe! POE!” came the voice again, startling Poe out of his shocked haze just as his dormant headache sent its first wave of pain radiating out and down his spine. It tugged on his gut and made him gag on the air in his lungs. _

_ He had to get home. _

_ Why was it so dark? Days on Yavin were some of the longest in the galaxy, and even in the monsoon season it was never like this. Was it night? No, it was smoke, he realized with a terrible jolt as he stumbled toward the tree line. Suddenly, he was inhaling an acrid cloud that hadn’t been there before. _

_ Someone cried out for him again, and it wasn’t Finn this time. _

_ He choked on his breath, the flickering red of fire in the distance encroaching all at once—a chorus of voices started screaming Poe’s name, and he had nowhere to go. He didn’t know where the voices were coming from, he couldn’t run to or away. He blinked hard, his eyes stinging and watering with the smoke in his lungs as he cleared the jungle and looked out on the Dameron family fields. The house he grew up in, the garden his father planted, the fields where his mother taught him to fly—all of it was completely engulfed in flames. _

_ He wasn’t sure if he screamed, because he was too busy running, heart pounding, head throbbing, gut twisting. The smoke was thick and black against the empty red sky, and every breath he took left his throat and lungs burning by the time he reached the garden gate. _

_ The windows of the house exploded, then, sending shattered glass in all directions. Poe went to open the gate, desperation seizing his chest when he finally caught a glimpse of who had been calling him— _

_ “DAD! MOM!?” _

_ He tried to run to them, not caring about the blaze, not thinking for a moment beyond the agonized screams of his parents in the upper room window—but suddenly his head seemed to split with a fresh wave of pain, every muscle in him completely immobilized. _

_ “No! no, no, no…” he pleaded out loud, begging the sky, the miraculously unburnt Force Tree beside him,  _ anyone _ , to help him as he felt the relentless press of Kylo Ren’s probe burrow back into his mind. He was helpless, he was failing again… _

_ “Do you see how easy this is for me, now? Your resistance is only making this more painful for you.” _

_ The chilling monotone came close to his ear, sending a shiver down Poe’s spine. He had no resistance to give, no witty one-liner, he couldn’t  _ breathe _ , let alone think. Suddenly, he could feel a body a hair’s breadth from his back. He couldn’t hear anything over the pounding of his heart and the roar of the flames but he could feel the heat of the lightsaber that Ren had beside him. _

_ He couldn’t see his parents anymore. He could barely see the structure of his home through the inferno all around him. _

_ The pressure was merciless, driving into Poe until he was sure there was nothing deeper. He could hear Ren’s mechanical breathing next to his ear, paralyzed and only able to shiver against the violation. He could feel the hot tears on his face, the sweat on his brow, the hot lick of the flames at his clothes, but all he heard were the memories of home. _

_ Yavinic songs echoing through the jungle, holidays from his childhood, his  _ father _ , his  _ mother _ —they all filled his mind, tangled around the pain that Ren sent radiating out through the Force into him. It settled in his bones, burning like a brand over his heart. _

_ “I’ll ask this one time, Dameron: where is the map?” _

_ The Force Tree exploded as if struck by lightning, and the last thing Poe felt was the splinters of wooden shrapnel cutting through him. _

“NO!”

Poe could smell nothing but smoke, still see the fire in his mind’s eye, his stomach twisting and contracting as he bolted up in bed. It was all he could do to stumble into the fresher before collapsing on his knees in front of the toilet and retching up what little he’d been able to eat last night.

The sheen of clammy sweat on his palms made it hard to push himself back up to standing when he was certain he was finished. The smell of smoke  _ still _ clung to his nostrils and his throat, now mixed with the acidic tang of his bile and the humid air of D’Qar.

He should’ve known better than to try to sleep that night, after the attack he’d had in Leia’s office, but he… he wanted to be rested for Finn.

He had asked Poe to be there with him for his first day of physical therapy.

Poe brushed his teeth until he spat out blood and cleaned himself and the fresher up as well as he could. He didn’t need to look at the clock to know it was still late in the night, but he did anyway—0200 hours.

_ Kriff _ .

He stood under the shower spray until he couldn’t stand anymore. Then, he  _ sat _ under the shower spray instead, even after the water went cold.

Poe had at least managed to waste an hour before wandering out into the corridors and the empty mess hall. He drained a whole cup of caf and went for a second one before taking his wobbly legs out to the hangar. He wanted nothing more than to see Finn, even if he was just asleep and peaceful, but that seemed weirder now that he wasn’t in a coma anymore. Not to mention, if the Doc saw him like this, he was sure to end up stuck in the medbay for his own reasons.

The cool night felt soothing against his skin. A breeze buffeted his wet hair and he took his first deep breath of the day, standing a little steadier than before.

“It’s a little early, isn’t it?” 

Rey hopped down from The Falcon gangway, a confused shadow of a smile on her face. Her eyes looked a little haunted, and Poe felt almost like he was looking at a mirror for a moment. He shook away the feeling. 

He wanted to ask questions, but couldn’t afford to have  _ that conversation _ . He couldn’t without her asking questions of her own. 

Poe just gave a half-hearted shrug “I could say the same about you—leaving so soon?”

She shook her head, “Nah, we just decided to sleep in the bunks here instead of making Leia scrounge up a spot for us to sleep.” she gave him a once over, doing that  _ Force User X-Ray Vision _ thing, and Poe felt a little spark of annoyance light up inside him. “You okay?”

“I’m fine.” He replied automatically. Technically, it _wasn’t_ a lie—he didn’t even have his headache right then. He was _fine_. But he knew he was lying, and that was enough to get a raised eyebrow from his Jedi friend. He rolled his eyes and tried to keep his tone light (and not _at_ _all_ defensive) as he said “What? Is that not good enough? Did Skywalker teach you how to read minds already?”

“Is there something to be read that you’re not saying?”

_ Kriff _ . He was too tired to try to be clever.

“ _ Rey _ …” he sighed, scrubbing a hand down his face like he could wipe away his exhaustion.

“We don’t have to talk about it.” She smiled, and he _loved_ her _so much,_ he’d missed her _so_ _much_.

“I heard you guys land yesterday, sounded like a dying womp rat—you need new caps on the thermo-cuplars…” he grinned back at her, chuckling when she rolled her eyes.

“And what? You’ve got a couple hours to kill? C’mon, we’ll do it together—on one condition.” She poked her skinny little finger into the center of his chest, stopping him in his tracks on his way up the gangway “We don’t have to talk about it, but you can’t lie, either.”

He almost lied again, just out of habit, but bit his tongue against the witty remark. Instead, he just nodded “You’ve got a deal.”

* * *

He felt almost human by the time he set his eyes on Finn, standing for the first time since Poe saw him in the lead up to the attack on Starkiller. Free, wild joy ballooned in Poe’s chest while looking at his friend. He was braced on the edge of the bed, Dr. Kalonia standing by with a hand if he needed it, but Finn was standing strong.

Dr. Kalonia was saying something about Finn being remarkably well suited to the bacta, looking over his chart when Finn spotted Poe in the doorway.

“Poe!”

“Hey Buddy—this is amazing!” he made his way into Private Room 12 “I thought you’d be starting slower, leaning on me every step of the way!” he may have been  _ hoping _ for that, and by the look on the Doc’s face, she knew it, but Poe ignored her dry expression. “How can I help?”

“Back up a couple steps and stay right there—yeah, like that.” Finn took a deep breath, his soft face drawn in concentration as he held the edge of the bed and took a wobbly, baby Fathier-type of step that Poe couldn’t help but grin at.

He was sweating by the fifth step, and Poe was shooting glances at the Doc, waiting for her to scold Finn for pushing himself too hard, but she was just smirking at them both.

He was  _ so close _ when he finally took a step and slipped, his legs unable to hold him up, but Poe was ready. He darted forward, arms outstretched, catching his friend under his arm and around his waist. He gripped him tight, trying to be as steady a presence as he could manage, pointedly not thinking about how  _ close _ Finn’s lips were to his, or how his heartbeat thumped under Poe’s hand.

“You might have me leaning on you more than you thought…” he grinned, breathless, and Poe could only laugh, a touch giddier than he would admit to.

The rest of the day went something like that. It was a bit more structured once Dr. Kalonia was finished humoring them, but most of it was just Finn doing basic exercises and taking slow, labored walks from one side of the room to the other. They took water breaks, and shared lunch sitting on the cot. Rey came by in the afternoon, and Finn managed a longer walk down the corridor of the medbay with one of them on each arm.

By the time they got back, Finn was sweating and pale again, and Dr. Kalonia put him on bedrest for the evening.

“Can’t have you overexerting yourself too much—Dameron, you  _ better _ let him rest.” She squinted suspiciously at him, smiled at Rey like he wasn’t even there, and disappeared down the hall.

Rey made a face at him and Finn, and they all laughed.

“Really, thank you for helping me, guys.” Finn sighed as he finally got to sit down and rest “Especially Poe—you’ve been here all day.”

Poe just shrugged, perching on the edge of the bed beside his friend “You’re doing all the hard work, Buddy—I’m just arm candy.”

Finn clapped him on the shoulder and squeezed, and Poe could only hope that it wasn’t too obvious how much he leaned into the touch. His hand was big and warm, a solid presence that gave Poe a flutter in his stomach.

He wasn’t just there to be arm candy, though. He really liked this—being there for Finn, having a distraction from his shit that was  _ actually _ distracting, feeling  _ useful _ for the first time since Starkiller was destroyed. Poe almost felt like  _ himself _ . He’d been smiling and laughing, and he  _ wanted  _ to come back tomorrow.

Rey left as the sunset first started peeking into the window of Private Room 12. She said something about Luke and having to meet back in the mess hall by dusk and said her goodbyes.

There was something about silence with Finn that didn’t feel like silence with anybody else. It wasn’t awkward, there was no need to fill the empty spaces—it was grounding. There was a good reason why Poe was always there, even when Finn was on the bacta and the ventilator. He’d rather sit in silence with him than have a conversation with most people, especially lately.

“Poe?”

His heart leapt a little in his chest—Finn’s hand was back on his shoulder, drawing him back into the present. He blinked his tired eyes and turned his head to look at his friend. His smile was a little dopey, his eyes a little bloodshot, he was sure, but he was  _ safe _ with Finn.

“Poe, are you okay?”

“Yeah, yeah I’m okay.”

Finn didn’t look convinced, and under other circumstances Poe would be getting sick of the drily raised eyebrow everyone seemed to be sending his way, but it caused less of a defensive sting when it was from  _ him _ .

“You look even worse than I do.”

“Not pretty enough for you anymore?” he teased, grinning his most dazzling grin clearly meant to distract, but Finn only chuckled.

“You know I’m not saying that—You look tired, Poe. That’s all I’m saying.”

The warm hand from his shoulder had moved to his upper back, rubbing slow, barely-there circles over his shoulder blades. Poe shouldn’t look too deep into it—they’ve always had a physically affectionate friendship. Poe had always been a physically affectionate guy.

He shouldn’t look too deep into it.

“My dad’s on base.” He finally said, and to be honest, he had forgotten until then, with the words spilling out of his mouth. Just another little thing to feel guilty about, he supposed. Finn looked confused, like he had to go through a few different steps to figure out how to respond.

“Okay… Is that bad?”

Of course, Finn didn’t have a dad. Of  _ course _ .

“Forget I mentioned it, I—”

“No, do you not like him? You can stay here with me you don’t have to go out and see him—”

His heart swelled—he’d  _ love _ to. He’d love to hide with Finn in the medbay and never have to face his dad at all. But he couldn’t just let Finn think that Kes was anything less than the honorable,  _ wonderful _ man that he was.

“It’s not like that—he’s all I’ve got, we’ve always been close, it’s just…” his head hurt a little, just at the corners of his vision, for the first time that day when Poe thought of his dream, and his dad’s screams in the burning house. The look on his face after thinking Poe was dead for 2 months. He had asked him to _be_ _safe_ when he left home, and Poe _knew_ he couldn't promise that, but had he even _tried_ \--? He shook his head to clear it and focused on Finn’s hand on his back. “I haven’t been a good son lately.” _Kriff_ , he wasn’t going to cry, he _wasn’t_ “And we’ve been fighting, and… I don’t know.”

When he finally meets his friend’s dark brown gaze, he doesn’t see a trace of judgement—just that same earnest look, big eyes and soft, slack mouth like he was trying to fully understand. The concept of a family must’ve been so foreign to him. What did Stormtrooper kids have?

Poe was sure he’d hate knowing, but he hoped one day Finn would let him ask.

“I haven’t been sleeping like I should, and I can’t talk to him about it—”

“Why not?”

“Because it…”  _ hurts _ . He finished the thought, all the twisted memories and terrible nightmares rising like steam in his mind and making his eyes misty.

“You don’t have to answer that, forget I said anything.” Finn backed up the question hurriedly, taking his hand from Poe’s back to raise them in a show of surrender, and Poe  _ hated  _ feeling the cold spot where Finn’s hand had been. He bit his lip against the upset little noise in his throat and blinked away the heat in his eyes.

“No, it’s okay.” He coughed, clearing his throat before he stood up from the bed “I, actually, I’ve already been hiding in here with you all day, so I should go find him…”

Poe would say Finn looked disappointed for a second, but it passed so quickly that he couldn’t be sure. Besides, if Finn was disappointed by the idea of Poe leaving, he’d just end up staying forever to keep him happy.

And he really  _ had _ to go.

“Yeah, okay. That’s a good idea, yeah.”

It was Poe’s turn to clap his friend on the shoulder, managing a smile as he said, “Great job today, Buddy—you’ll be up and running again in no time.”

Finn grinned, but it wasn’t until Poe turned and took the few steps to the door that he heard his uncertain voice “Would you come back tomorrow?”

He turned around, exerting all his willpower to keep from screaming  _ YES _ .

“It’s so much easier when you’re here. You’re pretty useful arm candy.” He chuckled, a little more confident when he saw the grin that must’ve been plastered from ear to ear on Poe’s face.

“Yeah, Buddy—as long as you need me.”

* * *

The spring in his step took him all the way to the mess hall without a single thought, but he paused at the threshold to the bustling space. Kes was sitting on the other side of the room with Leia, Luke, Rey, and Chewie.

In the end, it was BB-8 who gave him away, though, setting their sights on Poe and rolling across the floor with an excited beep and whir after not seeing him all day. Rey looked over and saw him, ultimately alerting the whole table to him standing there with her cheery wave and point at the empty seat next to his dad.

Kes grinned like he was taking his first deep breath of the day, seeing Poe and waving him over. It made him feel like the worst son in the galaxy, but when did he  _ not _ these days?

At least the headache didn’t immediately rear up again.

“Poe!” Luke said as he approached, “Rey was just telling me that the banging at 0300 this morning was you two, fixing the thermo-cuplars.”

That put a look on Kes’s face, flicking back and forth between Rey and Poe, that made Poe want to turn right back around and go back to Private Room 12.

“Yeah, you should take better care of that old hunk a’junk, Skywalker, I could hear the thermo-cuplars rattling the second you landed.” He replied, slipping into the seat next to his dad as if he hadn’t gotten the euphemism Luke and Chewie were grinning about.

Rey hadn’t gotten it— _ actually _ hadn’t gotten it.

“Yeah, I couldn’t sleep and when I heard a noise outside and went out to investigate it was just Poe. He said he could hear them, so we fixed them—and you didn’t move a muscle, Master, I didn’t think you heard us.”

_ Kriff _ ,  _ Rey _ . Poe sighed, suddenly feeling every moment that he'd been awake. But Leia was hiding a laugh behind her hand and Luke was smirking, and Poe couldn’t help the quirk of his own lips.

“ _ Rey _ ,” he cut in, gesturing for her to stop with a little shake of his head.

“What?”

“They don’t think we were fixing the thermo-cuplars.” He took a long drink of caf while the realization dawned on her face—from confusion, to shock, to abject horror that made the whole table laugh. Kes nudged Poe in the ribs, shooting him a look that asked a clear question.

“ _ No _ , Dad—she’s practically a kid compared to me!”

“I’m not a kid!” Rey rolled her eyes and flicked a piece of her rations at him “You’re just busy mooning over Finn like he hung every star in the galaxy…”

_ “Finn? _ Who’s Finn?” Kes immediately latched on, elbowing Poe in the side again and fixing him with that look. Again.

“Our  _ friend _ .” Poe jumped in before Rey could act on whatever the grin on her face was about.

“Oh, but you were so cute today, Poe!”

“Shut  _ up _ , Rey.” He hissed, a dusky red blush crawling up his neck.

At least no one mentioned the events of the day before. Poe wasn’t sure who he needed to send a fruit basket to for that blessing, but the only indication that Kes gave that he even remembered Poe’s attack was at the end of the night. He cupped the back of Poe’s head in the same way that he’d been doing since he was a little boy. He asked him how his head was feeling and urged him to _get some_ _rest, Kiddo_.

He wanted to hug him. He wanted to wrap his arms around his dad and just block out _everything_... He wanted to pretend that he wasn’t such a kriffing _terrible_ son, confess that there was _no_ _way_ that he’d get any sleep—he wanted to tell his dad about every agonizing memory trapped in his head, warped beyond recognition. He couldn’t even look him in the eye, not for longer than a moment without his head pounding and his muscles aching with the phantom pain of being paralyzed, stomach twisting with nausea and his lungs burning with smoke.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a long chapter! They're all pretty long, I guess, but this one is really REALLY long. I broke it up as best I could... This one was my favorite to write so far, so I hope you love it. 
> 
> And, as always, if you like it, leave me a comment! I love hearing from you!

Every morning -- once the sun was up and it was late enough to be socially acceptable (and sometimes even when it wasn’t) -- Poe went to Private Room 12. Sometimes, he brought caf, but sometimes Dr. Kalonia caught him first and said, “Those better both be for you, Dameron – you’re dead on your feet, and he’s on limited fluids while the bacta works out of his system.”

Every day, he slowly walked with his friend through the corridors of the medbay, acting as anything Finn needed him to be. Usually, that meant being a distraction from the sore muscles and breaking up the monotony of his long hours trapped in the medbay’s white walls. He brought food and caf, opened the window to let in the fresh breeze and the sounds of the D’Qar wildlife (when he could handle it), he told stories, he answered questions—and Finn had _a_ _lot_ of questions.

“So, you’re dad’s here… Do you have a mom, too?” he asked on the third day, picking at a stray thread on his sleeve while they walked in yet another lap of the medbay.

Poe put down his cup of caf, clearing his throat “I, yeah I did. She died when I was eight.”

Silence was different with Finn, but so was  _ this _ . When he was talking to Finn, talking about home was as easy as breathing. It never felt like prying, his concern didn’t feel smothering, and Poe was always rewarded by one of those soft, bright smiles that made him feel like D’Qar’s entire sun was inside his chest.

Finn nodded, taking his hand from Poe’s elbow and sliding his fingers down to intertwine with Poe’s, squeezing “What was she like?”

“Well, she looked a lot like me—Dad has this holo from when I was a little kid, and she and I are making the exact same face… Um, she also taught me how to fly.”

“She was a pilot, too?”

“Oh yeah. I had to get it from somewhere, right?” he grinned cheekily, and almost felt like himself as he squeezed Finn’s hand back. “She and dad were both a part of the first Rebellion, that’s where they met…”

And, just like that, he was talking more about his mom than he had in years. Her smile, her smell, the engine grease that was constantly under her nails, the Force Tree that Luke had gifted to her for her help during that one messy mission on Naboo… even her death, less than a year later.

“Dad never really stopped grieving, I guess…” he shook his head, his shame slapping him in the face again at the thought of his dad “But he did a good job, raising me by himself. It’s only because of him that I still remember her as well as I do.”

Finn nodded, letting Poe help him back onto his cot back in his room “I think I remember my mom, sometimes. But I think maybe I just want to remember her so badly that I’m making her up.”

Finn and Poe talked away most of the day, every day.

They talked about the Force, and families, and Finn’s nightmares. Then, about Poe’s. 

He didn’t say much. At least, not at first… he always stopped before his hands could start to shake. He always stopped before he said too much about The Finalizer. He always stopped before he could tell Finn about the agony of his head being split apart by Ren’s probe. 

Until Finn turned that imploring brown gaze on him one time too many, and a tug under Poe’s breastbone would unravel his secrets a little further into his friend’s safe hands. 

Seeing Finn was the best part of every day. Rey came by, too, until the day Luke declared that they needed to get back to their training.

She hugged Poe with a different type of strength than before. She was more tender, rubbing her hand over his back as she pulled away.

“You’ll take care of him?”

“You know I will.” He grinned, still holding her.

She nodded with a sad smile “What about you?”

“What  _ about  _ me?”

“Will you take care of  _ you,  _ too?”

He just hugged her again and wondered to himself why the people that loved him always expected him to make promises that he couldn’t keep.

Every evening, Finn asked him to come back the next morning. And he always did, too far gone to say anything but  _ yes. _

His mom, when he’d asked her about love once as a very small boy, had said that it felt like a string attached to your heart, and that when you wandered too far from each other the string pulled too tight for you to resist going back to them. She said you found the right partner when they always let you wander, and they trusted you to come back.

Poe, in his sleep deprived haze every night, thought that the string connecting him to Finn was a little shorter than his mom and dad’s. He felt a tug on his heart to turn back around every time he so much as  _ looked  _ away from him. He was tired, and he was  _ scared  _ and if he couldn’t be in the sky, then he wanted to be by Finn’s side.

He wasn’t  _ always  _ with Finn, though. He ran drills with his squadron, ignoring the concerned looks that Snap and Jess would exchange every time they saw the circles under his eyes get a little deeper. He always met up with Kes for dinner, and sometimes they didn’t even fight. Sometimes it felt almost like old times, before Jakku, when they had talked every week and Poe was less of a wreck.

Most of the time, it wasn’t. Because Jakku  _ had  _ happened, and Poe  _ was  _ a wreck.

It had been a week since Kes arrived and Finn woke up, and Poe could feel himself slipping. Even Dr. Kalonia had stopped looking at him with her usual snarky bemusement, her gaze more penetrating, naked concern sending a prickle up his spine. He was lucky Finn was getting so much stronger, because if his friend leaned on him too heavily, Poe was sure he’d be the one to crumble under the pressure.

“We’ll be discharging him soon,” the Doc said one morning—he couldn’t remember which morning, they all blurred together anyway, “He’ll need to come in for regular appointments, but his walking has improved tenfold. There’s no reason for us to keep him here.”

Poe nodded, keeping his eyes open only through the current of caf in his bloodstream.

She just looked at him for a long moment, waiting for something that Poe didn’t know how to give her.

“He’s going to be coming in to visit  _ you _ , if you don’t start taking care of yourself.”

“What?”

“Just checking to make sure you were listening to a single word I said— As much as I  _ love  _ seeing you,” Poe huffed at the sarcasm, but she was back to uncomfortable sincerity in a blink “I’d really prefer you and your friends being  _ healthy  _ and  _ out  _ of the medbay. You don’t look like yourself, Poe. You’re not acting like yourself, either.”

He wanted to be mad, but the concern written in the set of her jaw and the lines around her eyes were too kind for him to snap.

He already fought enough with one person-- he didn’t have enough brain power to fight anybody else.

“I’m alright, Doc.”

And she didn’t believe him. He wasn’t expecting her to. He floated down the familiar path to Finn’s room, feeling her sharp gaze on his back with every step he took.

Every night, he wandered the halls to stave off the desperate urge to sleep. He found himself in the medbay, or in the control rooms looking over maps and correspondences, or in the hangar. He closed his eyes and listened to the sounds of the jungle.

D’Qar reminded him of home when he stopped long enough to think about it. The jungle, the birdsong, the smell of flowers, streams, and engine grease in the humid air—he used to find it so comforting. It used to feel like his mom was there with him, like she was guiding his hand when he worked on Black One or sending the Force to help him along on his next mission.

Now, it just sent a wave of pressure through his brain that pulsed behind his eyes. Now, the things that felt like home just filled his lungs with smoke.

* * *

“You understand just as well as any of us – this is  _ war,  _ Kes.”

Leia poured out a drink that Kes couldn’t get his hands on fast enough.

“You know I understand, Leia, don’t  _ patronize  _ me.” He took a sip that was closer to a swig, fixing his old friend with a look over the rim of his glass. “You’ll forgive me if I’m concerned about my only child – I haven’t been a soldier for almost thirty years. I’ve always been a  _ dad,  _ especially after Shara…”

Leia smiled, nodded. He knew she could understand  _ that, _ at least –losing a spouse, being a parent. Being worried when your only child is suddenly different than you left them.

Now who was patronizing who? He cleared his throat and looked back down into his drink, unable to look her in the eye for a moment. Shame heated his face, but he told himself it was the wine.

“This isn’t _Poe_ – he’s never been so distant with me. He never would have left me without a comm for _2_ _months_. This whole week, he’s been so quiet, he’s so evasive. He _never_ —”

“Why do you think I asked you to come? We need your help, yes, the Resistance effort has only just started. But, I know Poe’s acting strange. He hasn’t been himself since he staggered back from Jakku.” She sipped her own drink, lips pursed like the wine was sour, even though Kes knew it wasn’t “What do you want to know, Kes?”

“How long was he captive?”

“6 days. I’d give you his report, but it was top secret—no paper report was filed. He reported directly to me, but I didn’t ask for too many details. I couldn’t make him relive all that.”

_ 6 days. _

“6 days. In an interrogation chamber on a First Order ship.”

It was hard to keep himself together. His palms were sweating, and he gripped his glass tighter, heat pricking his eyes. Just like when he spent all those weeks waiting for news, fearing the worst, he couldn’t quite choke the words out that he needed to say now that answers were in his grasp. He couldn’t un-know whatever Leia told him, whatever had happened to his son in those long, merciless days.

Did he  _ want  _ to know?

“Kes, we don’t have to do this—”

He only shook his head, blinking hard against the tears in his eyes “I’ve got to know, Leia, I’ve got to help him.”

She fixed him with a look, scanning over him like she could see beyond him-- the way Shara used to. In that way Force-sensitive people do. Kes just looked right back.

“Alright. I sent Poe to Jakku on a top-secret mission to retrieve Intel from an old contact – he’s my best pilot, my strongest fighter in an army full of strong fighters, Kes. I sent Poe because he was my only hope to find my brother and change the course of the war.” She sipped her wine “I told him from the jump that he was on his own – if he was captured, we couldn’t put more people in danger to get him out.”

It left a pinched expression on her face to say it, and Kes knew he mirrored the look right back to her. She looked old for the first time in all the time Kes had known her.

“We needed Luke, and Poe was willing to succeed or die to help us find him.”

Kes couldn’t help the scoff that bubbled up his throat “Why is it always  _ my  _ family that seems to die for your brother’s sorry ass?”

He was ready for her to get offended, to fight him-- he was itching to yell about Luke Skywalker again, as if it had only been days instead of decades since Shara’s lifeless body was flown home—

But Leia only sighed, set down her glass, and took his hand in hers where it was balled into a fist on her desk. She looked him square in the face.

“ _ Poe’s still here, _ Kes.”

It was all he could do to remember that.

He ran a hand down his face, scrubbing away as much of his animosity as he could manage – Poe was still here, and he needed him.

“What happened in that interrogation chamber?”

“You might want to take another sip of your drink” she said wryly, patting his hand before removing it to flick through the holo-display on her desk.

It was his son’s medical record. The vague, medical depiction of Poe’s body came up, a slowly rotating simulation patched with clinical color-coded marks where the most damage was.

“By the time he got back to us he’d crashed a TIE fighter to escape The Finalizer, but the injuries that were inconsistent, or older than, the crash were severe bruising, multiple injection sites, a concussion, several broken ribs, and electrical burns…”

Kes swallowed hard—he asked for this. He wasn’t about to vomit all over his friend’s desk.

“An interrogation droid?”

Leia nodded. “But he came back. He… he withstood 6 days of interrogation. They didn’t get any information from him until they used the Force to extract it.”

He knew  _ they  _ meant  _ Kylo Ren,  _ but Kes wasn’t so cruel that he’d make her say it. He was too busy, trying to imagine what kind of agony was included in Force-extraction. Kes’s brushes with the Force were limited mostly to the soft, soothing moments of Shara slipping into his mind back when he still dreamed about the rebellion, and the equally soft sway of the tree in his garden now that she was gone. The idea of the Force being used as an instrument of torture, to dig through his son’s mind—

“I need to see him.” He finally rasped, draining his glass and standing on wobbly legs “I… Leia, where are Poe’s quarters?”

“He won’t be there, Kes.”

He was getting really sick of that look – the one that told him just how little he seemed to know about his own son.

“What do you mean? It’s the middle of the night!”

“Yes, I know. You’re likely to find him in the medbay—Private Room 12. If he’s not there, he’s in the hangar.”

“You know a lot about this?”

“It’s my job, Kes. He’s my pilot, he’s my  _ friend,  _ and before you shouted down the house and banished us from his life, I was his aunt.” it was sharp enough to cut him to the core-- they had never cleared the air on that, he supposed. He wasn’t sure if he could. “... I’ve been looking out for him. He’s been struggling for weeks. I need him, and I can’t send him back out until I know he’s of sound mind! He’s been pestering me about new missions since the second he touched down after Starkiller, and if he’s not well, he’s more likely to  _ die in battle.” _

Kes had nothing to say. She was right. Poe was too much like his mother. It was only weeks after the first war was won that Shara started getting antsy, pacing their small house and wandering the jungle trails. Kes would wake up in the middle of the night to an empty bed and search from room to room for his lost wife, only to hear the familiar engine of the A Wing in the fields, taking off or touching down from another late-night joy ride.

Shara needed to do something—it wasn’t enough to be a wife, to be a mother, to be  _ safe _ .

He should’ve known that it spelled disaster when Shara got the first comm from Luke, asking for help on a mission on Endor. And then again, on Alderaan. And again, and again—Kes could still feel the cold pit of dread in his gut.

It wasn’t because she wasn’t home. He’d known long before he married Shara Bey that no one should ever try to cage what belongs in the sky. It was because he could feel it in the Force, Kes had a bad feeling. But, on that last mission he still let her go. He still went to wake up their perfect little son so Shara could kiss his curls and assure him of when she’d be home.

Kes still let her go. And he’d let his son go, too.

Poe was his mother’s son, just as much as Kes always loved and feared.

“I can’t lose him…”

He’d buried his love. He couldn’t bury his son.

“He won’t leave the fight, Kes.”  _ Kriffing Force-sensitive people, reading minds. _

He only nodded, mentally listing off all the friends and family he’d lost from one revolution to another. He’d survived so many battles just by sheer dumb luck and the right people at his back. What did Poe have?

”The medbay? What’s in the medbay?” he turned to glance back from the threshold as he was leaving. Leia cracked half of a smirk.

“You’ll see.”

* * *

He found Poe sitting by the bedside of a young man, talking back and forth with cups of caf between them.

Ever since Kes had arrived—and however much longer before that—his son had had a taut cable of stress holding him up like a marionette. Poe could smile and laugh with his squadron in the mess hall, teach the new recruits, and even tour the base with Kes without too much of his snappy attitude, but that tension was always there. He’d been watching closely, every moment, every move—he was Poe’s  _ father, _ he knew when something was wrong. After that first day, that fight… Kes had carefully catalogued his son’s behavior.

Poe looked older than Kes had ever known him, when he’d walked into Leia’s quarters that first day. He was skinnier, too. He was creased and rumpled like he’d just been tumble dried in a cyclone, trying so hard to keep it together while he quietly unraveled. It left a pit of cold dread in Kes’s heart, only able to count on one hand the amount of times his son had suffered—or done  _ anything,  _ for that matter--quietly.

The last time, it was when he grieved his mother. He was only a little boy, then.

Kes was confused. He was _concerned_. He was looking at his grown son and simultaneously seeing the lost little boy he’d raised, and the old man Poe might never get the chance to be. Kes could see Shara in every step Poe took, running himself ragged for _the_ _cause_. He was praying on his wedding band every night that she and the Force would guide Poe back to him, to let Kes _help_.

Inside Private Room 12, Poe looked more like himself than he had since Kes landed. He looked  _ young, _ his eyes all aglow looking at the other man on the medbay cot. He was still a little frayed around the edges, but he was smiling softly, laughing and chatting in low tones like he was keeping a secret.

“… So, this is your, what,  _ fifth  _ cup of caf tonight?” he caught the dark younger man saying.

“Maybe.” Poe drawled, the circles under his eyes speaking for themselves “Don’t act like you were sleeping peacefully or something—I just saved your ass from being very bored and lonely.”

“I mean, I won’t deny that. As long as you bring caf, you can come by whenever.” they chuckled. The tension in his son’s shoulders had slumped into a comfortable sprawl across the foot of the bed, facing his companion like he hung every star in the galaxy. “And wake me up when you can’t sleep, okay? I don’t want you being _ bored and lonely,  _ either.”

It took Kes’s breath right out of his lungs, his rapt attention on Poe, looking like the spitting image of his mom, beaming and young and  _ in love. _

“Have you gotten a single night’s sleep, Poe?” his companion broke their delicate silence, reaching out a hand to grip Poe’s fingers on top of the neatly tucked sheets. That smile slipped a little, but he didn’t brush it off or get mad like he did when Kes asked.

“ _ Finn  _ …”

So, this was Finn. The one Rey had talked about, the one Poe was helping with his recovery.  _ This  _ was  _ Finn. _

“It’s just, you’re here a lot, and you look so tired, and Dr. Kalonia keeps making jokes about how she’s never had a patient with _ ‘such diligent support’,  _ whatever  _ that  _ means, but even when I was asleep I could  _ feel  _ you here with me, talking to me—”

“Finn, buddy, _relax_. It’s okay— I don’t sleep a lot, but _I’m_ _okay_.” They were holding hands, they were _holding_ _hands_ , and Poe was smiling that soft smile again while watching his friend— _Finn_ —ramble on. “The most incredible thing about all that is the idea that the Doc has _ever_ made a joke, _ever_.”

Finn laughed “Y’know, she’s actually pretty cool if she likes you.”

“ _ What? _ How could she not like me? I’m delightful—”

“She likes people that actually take her medical advice, Poe.”

“Oh.”

Kes nearly let out a chuckle himself, almost forgetting why he was standing there at the door, eavesdropping on his son.

“What did you mean? That you could _feel_ _me_ here?” Poe said after a moment of quiet.

“I meant that I could feel your presence, it was like a dip in the atmosphere of the room. Like, how you’re sitting on my bed right now, and I can feel your weight by my feet—but it was with the whole room.”

“You should talk to Rey about that…”

Kes was about to turn around and walk the other way, let Poe have this moment of actual relaxation in this kriffing war, instead of dragging up the captivity and torture he was already losing sleep over. He remembered how precious those moments used to be to him and his own pilot, in the little gaps of peace between strategic meetings and drills and missions. He remembered that these moments were more important than the war itself, were more meaningful than any battle.

He turned away to let his son just  _ be  _ for a moment, until the next time he was captured, tortured, or killed. Poe deserved to be able to just  _ be  _ instead of being a hero, just like every other young fighter in The Resistance.

That was what they’d fought for the first time.

The mental image of Poe after 6 days in some cold room with an interrogation droid was the only thing that made him turn, wanting one last glance of his son at rest, but when he looked back into the room the scene had changed.

“Dad?” Poe was at the threshold to the room, Finn still sitting cross legged on the cot behind him. His face—so much like his beautiful mother—was drawn with concern “You alright? What’re you doing here?”

Kes was a sentimental old man.

“I… Yeah. I was looking for you—Leia said I might find you here. In Private Room 12.” He quirked a brow, shooting his son a  _ look. _

And then, Poe  _ blushed _ . Smiled that soft smile, the tension that had crept back into his posture seeping out.

“D’you want to come in? I don’t think you’ve met Finn yet.” 

“I haven’t, though I’ve heard  _ all  _ about him.” He met the minorly terrified gaze of Finn over Poe’s shoulder “I’m Kes Dameron. General Organa tells me we’ll be working together quite a bit once you’re healed up.”

Poe smirked “Yeah, Finn’s a pretty big deal in The Resistance.” Kes could’ve sworn his son winked, but he didn’t turn to look properly. He was too busy trying to keep himself at an acceptably non-threatening level for the young man in the cot, who was about to bolt, or piss himself, or something.

“ _ Poe _ !” Finn hissed.

“You took a lightsaber to the  _ spine,  _ Buddy—I mean, never,  _ ever  _ do it again, but you should own those hero points.”

Kes swallowed around an indescribable emotion that tasted bitter in his mouth when he heard _that_. There were a hundred things he could say about kriffing _hero_ _points_ , but he knew that was a one-way street into another fight. Instead, he extended a hand to the man in the bed.

“That’s pretty brave stuff, Kid.” Finn had a big hand with a strong grip, and Kes liked him instantly. There was something innocent in his face, even with all he’d seen and done.

And they talked. Finn had _saved_ _Poe’s_ _life_ , the other end of the TIE fighter that Poe piloted out of certain death—that was _Finn_.

“So, you were, what? FN-21…”

“87, yeah.”

“Then, where’d  _ Finn  _ come from?”

“Poe named me.”

"Not quite... I suggested." 

Finn just smiled, giving a shrug. "You gave me my first real  _ choice _ , Poe."

_ Poe named me... You gave me my first choice.. _ . Kes’s heart could burst, Poe’s blushing face was hidden behind his caf cup, and Finn didn’t seem to quite understand what all the hubbub was about.

The two moons of D’Qar bathed the room in light by the time Kes saw Poe yawning behind his hand, his eyes watering even as he tried to keep silent.

“I think we’ve taken up enough of your night, Finn. I’m sure we’ll be seeing each other soon—you need rest to heal.” If he looked directly into Poe’s face when he said it, he’d never admit to it. But they both knew, and Finn passed a glance between the two of them.

“Yeah, I… You’re right. I should get to sleep.”

“Yeah…” Poe stood, but hesitated, the tension settling back into his posture like he was remembering where he was—like he’d forgotten what happened to him and who he was supposed to be. It made Kes’s chest ache.

As the two of them got up to go, Finn caught Poe’s hand and gave him one last smile. “I’ll be getting out of here soon—are you still coming tomorrow?”

“’Course—0900?”

“Yeah.” He grinned “Yeah, okay. Good.”

* * *

The night was quiet, the base thrumming with only the skeleton crew of the night shift and the sound of the jungle birds in the distance. The quiet stretched between Kes and his son, a shadow cast over Poe’s face. The medical record Leia had pulled for him swirled in Kes’s mind, and he scanned over the man in front of him like he could still spot the long-since healed injuries—the concussion, the burns across his chest and shoulders, the bruises on his face, the broken ribs…

Kes cleared his throat “Y’know, if you close your eyes, it almost sounds like Yavin. Reminds me of when we first moved after the Revolution. Your mother…” it had been the first time they could really dream about the future since the war started. Shara was so  _ bright,  _ glowing at the idea of doing something new. They had been so young, so eager. “I never thought I’d hear the sounds of home again, I thought I’d be long dead, but with the war over, and both of us able to hear those birds again… We were  _ so excited.  _ Everything felt new and fresh, and we had just found out you were on your way.” Those first months before the shine wore off their new reality, before the nightmares and the guilt set in—those were some of the moments with his wife that Kes treasured the most.

He grinned, closing his eyes for a moment and picturing peace and home. The birdsong echoed through the jungle and the moons hung over the fields, with the whole of the galaxy finally free.

“D’Qar’s a lot like home, I guess.” Poe mumbled, and Kes turned to see that pinched expression on his face that said his head was hurting again “I hadn’t thought much about it.”

Whenever Poe lied, he wrinkled his nose just the slightest bit and glanced at his feet. Shara used to do the same thing. She’d done it when she was lying about considering rejoining Republic missions, itching to get back in the sky.

_ “He’s been pestering me about new missions since the second he touched down after Starkiller, and if he’s not well, he’s more likely to die in battle _ …” That’s what Leia had said.

Poe wanted to get back in the sky.

“Son…”

“Please don’t, Dad.”

“You don’t even know what I was going to say.”

Poe rolled his eyes and fixed Kes with his sharp gaze “Well, you weren’t looking for me in the middle of the night just so you could meet Finn.”

Kes swallowed hard, he was trying so hard not to fight again. He smiled knowingly, nodded as he changed the subject “ _ Finn. _ I like him, Poe.”

“Yeah, he’s… he’s pretty great.” Poe rubbed his hand down his tired face even while he smiled, the tension back in every muscle, and Kes couldn’t help but think his son looked  _ old. _ He seemed to have aged ten years in just the two months since Kes had last spoken to him—since Jakku.

“Leia and I shared a drink, she told me where to find you…” he sighed, clapping his son on the shoulder like he had a thousand times before. His heart broke when Poe flinched a little, but he didn’t let go. He rubbed a hand over his back like he did when Poe was small. He waited for him to pull away, but he didn’t. “She told me about what happened on Jakku, Poe.”

He whipped his head around and fixed Kes with a suspicious glare “Why the Hell did she do that?”

“I asked her.” They’d stopped walking, just facing off in the empty hallway. Poe had a sharp, angry set to his jaw, and Kes just tried  _ again  _ to make his son see some kind of  _ sense.  _ “She’s worried about you.  _ I’m  _ worried about you, Kiddo—”

“Oh, and you went to my _commanding_ _officer_ about it?”

“Poe,  _ this  _ is what I’m talking about! We never used to fight like this—let me help you!” Kes pulled Poe in to face him fully, gripping him by both shoulders “I want to keep you safe—”

“You want me to  _ quit _ .” Poe spat, ripping away from his hold. “This is my job, Dad!”

_If I hear that kriffing phrase one more time, I’m going to scream_ he thought “Yeah? And what exactly are your job parameters? Getting tortured? Getting as close to death as you can? Getting _hero_ _points_?”

Poe looked like Kes had smacked him, his eyes wide and fiery with righteous indignation “ _ Kriff, _ Dad, that’s just something I say to Finn to get him to believe he’s a good person! That’s not—”

“Are you  _ sure?  _ You accept missions with no backup, you get trapped behind enemy lines, you pull  _ suicidal  _ shit in that X Wing. You mean to look me in the eye and tell me there’s no  _ ego  _ there?”

Poe gaped for a split second that made Kes feel like an asshole “None of that was about me, I made a promise! To Leia, to myself, to  _ Mom  _ — The galaxy’s going to be at peace again once the First Order is gone, I’ll see to it personally if I have to.”

The terror was simultaneously familiar and unlike anything Kes had ever experienced. His blood seemed to go cold, suddenly able to picture every moment of Poe’s funeral, every useless word Leia and Luke would try to placate him with—all over again. Nearly two decades since Shara. How many times had they had this same fight? After Poe was born and the Republic didn’t need saving anymore, and Shara got restless, still needing to  _ fly  _ and  _ fight  _ for the greater good.

_ “Kes, it’s our job! If we don’t maintain the peace, what will happen then? What about Poe’s future?” _

She’d had those same  _ fiery  _ eyes, that same gleam of justice and heroism, and Kes couldn’t breathe through the sick sense of déjà vu heralding the repetition of history. 

There was no going down from here, they were barreling toward a point neither of them could control.

“And how will you do that?  _ Sacrifice  _ yourself? You’re going to  _ die  _ for this cause? What about Rey and Finn? What about—”

“ _ You?  _ D’you mean what about  _ you,  _ Dad? Rey and Finn both understand that sometimes sacrifices must be made to save everyone else! That’s what the Resistance is for—"

“You can’t do that—”

“Yes, I _can_! I fight for what I believe in, I was tortured for what I believe in, and I _will_ _die_ for it if I have to—”

“You  _ can’t—” leave me _ , he wanted to shout, his heart in his throat.

“It’s my  _ job! _ ”

_ Kes, it’s our job! If we don’t maintain the peace, what will happen then? What about Poe’s future? _

“IT’S  _ NOT _ YOUR JOB TO DO IT ALL BY  _ YOURSELF _ , SHARA!”

His shout rang out down the hall, filling all the available space and sucking the air out like a vacuum. His son stared at him with a betrayed, wide-eyed look like he’d just  _ shot  _ him, even stumbling back a step. He looked like he’d swallowed his tongue. Kes tried to reach out for him, but Poe had already turned on his heel and started off down the hall.

“Poe! Son, wait!” Kes jogged up behind him, getting a hand around his arm just as he turned at his door, forcing Poe to face him. “I’m  _ sorry,  _ Kiddo, you know I—”

He ripped his arm from Kes’s grasp and cried, “She’s  _ dead, _ Dad. Let her be dead.” His voice was ragged, and Kes felt strangled by the harsh words.

“Poe…”

“Oh,  _ Poe’s  _ not here right now—maybe it’s Mom you should apologize to. She’s clearly the one you’re trying to talk to, anyway.”

He slammed the button to the door of his quarters and let it close with a sharp hiss behind him, leaving Kes alone in the hall. 


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one was fun. And hard. And I might've cried while writing it, but I hope it's still in character and good and stuff. Poe finally gets some comfort <3 It's way shorter than the last one, but it's still pretty long, cuz this is ME we're talking about. 
> 
> Friends, Romans, Countryfolk-- leave a comment if you like it. I'm very proud of this fic, and it makes me so happy when you all enjoy it like I do. 
> 
> Enjoy!

Poe waited a couple hours before daring to leave his quarters again.

Part of him thought Kes would still be there at his door, and his heart clenched at the thought—he wasn’t sure what he’d do if he was. Poe was torn between unleashing his anger and raging at the man, and the nearly irresistible urge to throw his arms around him and beg for forgiveness. For everything. 

He was too young to remember the details of Mom’s death, or the immediate reaction he’d had to having to grieve for her. He remembered missing her, he remembered being confused, he remembered Kes yelling at a man who looked like Luke Skywalker. He remembered burying her under the Force Tree and the sullen blankness in his dad’s gaze for months after.

In a guilt-ridden twist, Poe actually associated Shara’s death with  _ comfort _ . He didn’t understand where Mom was, or why she wasn’t coming home, but he could always wake up from a nightmare and find Kes in the sitting room. He could always climb into his lap and nestle his little head under his dad’s chin and be  _ held _ . Dad used to carefully stroke his fingers through Poe’s curls and rub slow circles into his back, and every time he woke up from a nightmare to vomit in his fresher on D’Qar, Poe still craved that comfort.

He sat under the shower spray in his quarters like a drowned womp rat until he thought he could muster up the strength to be awake all night. After a fight like that, who knew what his dreams would dredge up if he slept…

_ Yeah? And what exactly are your job parameters? Getting tortured? Getting as close to death as you can? Getting hero points? _

The words echoed in his mind, his skull pulsating with the headache that was all but omnipresent throughout that past week. Nausea cramped his gut and he stifled a sob, actually considering Kes’s words beyond the initial shock and anger.

He supposed he was  _ right _ . He supposed there was a part of him that was itching for that glory—he loved to tell stories of his favorite flights, his daring escapes. It felt good, it felt like he was good and helpful but it wasn’t  _ about _ that--

_ And how will you do that? Sacrifice yourself? You’re going to die for this cause? What about Rey and Finn? What about— _

_ You? What about you, Dad? _

Part of Poe still remembered that all those times that Kes had held him after Mom’s death, his dad had been crying as he did. He would wrap his little arms around his dad’s broad chest and could feel him shake with silent sobs, squeezing Poe a little tighter every once and awhile.

_ What about you, Dad? _

Would his dad survive burying Poe, too. When Mom had died like she did? The shame engulfed him like a tidal wave to think that he had said that when he knew what he knew…

He had spent his life stepping into his mother’s shoes—sometimes consciously, sometimes not—and thinking that that was  _ right _ . That being like Shara would help his dad move on, somehow.

_ It’s not your job to do it all by yourself, Shara! _

Now, he was _too_ _much_ like her.

If Poe didn’t survive the war, what  _ would _ happen to Kes?

Poe swallowed another sob and dug his fingers into the back of his neck, massaging the base of his skull for  _ any _ type of relief from the pounding in his head.

He turned off the water and forced himself through the motions to stand and dry off and get clothes on. His hands drifted over the scars on his chest from the interrogation droid and the crash, looking in the mirror as he went to button his shirt. The bacta had rendered them almost imperceptible-- just thin, pink marks in his tanned skin-- but Poe knew exactly where each of them was, and when and how they happened.

He needed a cup of caf.

Kes wasn’t outside his door when he finally emerged from his quarters, and Poe didn’t breathe the sigh of relief that he thought he would.

The mess hall was empty, just like it always was. The hangar was empty, just like it always was. Poe dragged himself to the edge of the base where the hangar met the jungle and carefully lowered himself down to sit on the duracrete floor. Every bone in his body felt heavy and stiff, and his aching muscles were too weak to lift his feet another step.

He sipped his caf and grimaced at the bitterness. His stomach contracted and flipped sickeningly at the taste and Poe almost felt like he’d be sick right there, but there was nothing in him but bile and caf. There was nothing to throw up. His head throbbed and his eyes stung, and he tried his best to take slow, deep breaths against the nausea.

The night was cool, and a breeze ruffled through the base’s laundry line on its way through the jungle to gently buffet Poe’s haggard face.

It smelled so strongly of  _ home _ that Poe could swear he was back on Yavin, sitting under his mom’s tree. The sounds of wildlife between the trees settled into Poe’s blood like it was a part of him, the smell of the night air carried the ozone and humidity of a coming storm, with the sweet flowers and warm dirt and engine grease and laundry soap--

_ It’s not your job to do it all by yourself, Shara! _

He tried to lift his caf to his lips again, but he was too tired to even hold his cup. He set it carefully on the duracrete and took a shuddering breath that became a sob. That sob broke a dam of uncontrollable tears, his chest heaving and his eyes burning. His head still throbbed, and he desperately clutched at his hair like he could somehow manage to hold himself together.

He was shaking too hard to do much besides wait out the crests and falls of his headache, the never-ending flood of tears continuing down his cheeks, and he didn’t know what to  _ do _ .

He must’ve passed out. Maybe this was all just another nightmare, and Poe just had to _wake_ _up_. Maybe he was still on The Finalizer, waiting for Ren to flay him open and harvest his memories; or maybe he was still a lost little boy about to startle awake in his own bed, looking for his mom and needing his dad—

He didn’t hear anyone approach, or the comforting mumbles of someone coming to sit beside him, but suddenly he was pulled against a warm, familiar chest and there was a gentle hand detangling Poe’s fingers from his hair.

His memories skipped like a scratched record and landed on the feeling of  _ home _ that Ren had twisted into misery. Poe huffed and trembled, his lungs clogged with smoke when he tried to gasp in a breath.

“ _ Shh, shh _ … I’m so sorry. Poe, I’m  _ so sorry _ .” Kes’s voice seemed very far away and very close all at once, and Poe tugged himself back from the arms that held him just so he could peer up at his familiar face and know this was  _ real _ . He cleared his throat against the imagined smoke in his lungs, fisted his hand in Kes’s shirt, and tried to breathe through the pain behind his stinging eyes.

“D-Dad?” he croaked.

“I’m here, Kiddo.” He had replaced Poe’s hand that was clutching his own hair with his, much softer hand as he brushed through the wet curls and stroked down his spine like he always had.

Poe had missed him so much, he  _ missed home so much _ . He wrapped his arms around his dad’s broad chest and curled in close under his chin. He’d rather let himself be held through the pain, and shame, and exhaustion than stumble away again, like he had a week ago.

Had it really been a week ago? It seemed so far off… he sobbed and shivered, willing himself to listen to the sounds of the jungle and the murmurs of his dad into his hair and stop thinking about memories and time. He just wanted to be held, he wanted to  _ stop _ thinking.

They sat there for what felt like hours, and eventually the worst of the pain passed into a background thumping on the inside of his skull. His eyes were puffy and stinging, his mouth was drier than Tatooine, and he trembled uncontrollably.

“R-Ren… he took—he took over my h-head to…”

“To get the location of BB-8, I know. Leia told me.” He squeezed the nape of his neck and Poe released a helpless noise that Dad shushed.

“But… but, it was mo-more than th-that. _Dad_ …” he whimpered and sobbed, even though his eyes had no more moisture left to give. “He took _everything_. He—every memory, I u-sed _every_ _memory_ of y-you and M-mom and _home_ to keep him f-from detecting the location of the base, an-and protect the mission. I tried to keep him _off_ me, but I feel him _inside_ all the time, Dad…” he struggled to breathe, but Poe had opened the floodgates and couldn’t stop talking if he tried, pouring out every moment of his captivity.

“At first, I thought I could _move_ _on_ , I-I had to f-focus on Starkiller and my squadron, but _now_ …” he swallowed, his tongue feeling heavy and dry “And then you were here, and I’m _so_ _s-sorry_ I didn’t comm, but I couldn’t look at you without _feeling_ _him_ in my head _all over again_ …”

He couldn’t bring himself to look up at his dad, and didn’t see the glazed, overwhelmed,  _ lost _ look on his face as he rambled through apology after apology, listing his failures and his reasonings, trying to breathe.

“You don’t have to be sorry for that, Kiddo,  _ shh _ —"

But Poe couldn’t stop “I thought I was going to die.”

The silence was deafening. The hands on him had stopped stroking and just held him tighter.

“Dad, I was _ready_. I was okay with it, because he’d destroyed _everything_ I loved, it was like he _carved out a hole in my chest_ , but…” the urge to vomit, the pounding in his head, the heaviness in every limb—it all seemed to compound on itself like a neutron star about to go supernova in that moment, but Poe _had_ _to_ _say_ _it_ “I didn’t want to die, Dad, I was so _scared_. _Please_ , never think I’m doing this because of some twisted glory. I just want to be like Mom, I just want to make you _proud_.”

The birdsong and the breeze were the only sounds filling the air for a long few moments. Kes was no longer running his hands over his back in their soothing rhythm, only holding tightly as if Poe might disappear. Poe was trying to think of what to say when his dad finally broke the silence.

“Have I ever made you feel like I wasn’t? Proud of you?” his voice was soft and hesitant.

Truthfully, the answer was no. Kes had always supported every choice he made, had always been there to talk, even through The Flight Academy and The Republic and now, The Resistance. Poe tried to find something to say, but only managed to shake his head a little before Kes was talking again.

“I have been proud of you from the second you came into my world, and I’ll be proud of you until long after you leave it, whenever that may be. I never meant to… to compare you to your mother. You don’t have to  _ try _ to be like her, Poe, you always have been.” He stroked his hair again, and the calm that spread over Poe was almost enough to make him stop trembling entirely. “You have her smile, and her eyes, and  _ my _ nose—sorry about that—” he gave a watery chuckle, and Poe huffed something that was supposed to be a laugh “But, you are  _ you _ . And we are  _ both _ so proud of that.”

Kes held Poe like he was still a scared new widower, and maybe that would never change, maybe Kes was going to be grieving forever. But the comfort of the embrace was the same as it had ever been, and that was what mattered.

The smell of imagined smoke dissipated more and more the longer they talked, Poe’s eyelids drooping as he listened to his dad’s heartbeat under his ear. His head was sore and seemed to have a pulse of its own, but he didn’t pay it any mind. He felt more whole than he had since he fired into Starkiller and stopped having a  _ purpose _ .

“I don’t know what I’m fighting for anymore. I failed my mission and I lost my sense of home… but I don’t know what I’d do without all this.” Leia, the Resistance—he believed in the cause. His voice was a dehydrated rasp, “I was always fighting for you and Mom, like you fought in the first war, and…”

Kes just shrugged, jostling him a little, and chuckled humorlessly, “I didn’t realize what I was fighting for until after the war was over. I had nightmares, too, y’know. Shara and I both struggled. We clung to each other and to Yavinic traditions that we remembered from our grandparents, and tried to figure out who we were in that new reality. We went day to day with nothing to attack but the weeds in the garden.” He sighed and Poe, even though he couldn’t bring himself to look up, could hear the nostalgic smile in his dad’s voice. “We were  _ bored _ , too. Just plain bored…”

“What did you do about the nightmares?”

“Your mom handled those. She used The Force, just the softest touch of it, and she could soothe the worst of it away. Then there was  _ you _ —” he really chuckled then “and not only was life not as boring, I had a whole new reason to be up all night.” He felt a press of lips against his hair “I had a whole other reason to live, too.”

The silence then felt more comfortable, his body warm and sleepy. Kes was carding his fingers through his hair again, and Poe could barely remember the question he’d asked—he just wanted his dad to keep talking.

“It’s one thing to find something to fight for, Son, and another thing entirely to find something to live for beyond it all. They can be the same thing, though, in a vague way… I joined the fight to get vengeance for our ancestors that the Sith destroyed—because I loved my culture. I stayed in the fight for the love of a beautiful, daring pilot. And as for after the fight was over? For me and your mom, the reason to keep going was  _ you _ . When given the opportunity, Son—always live for  _ love _ . Even in the thick of battle.”

“Ren _took_ _that_ from me—Dad, when I think of you and Mom, he warped it _all_ —”

“And we will make  _ new _ memories. We won’t let him  _ win _ —not in your head, not against our culture, and not on the battlefield. My love for you will always be here, and this  _ violation _ ” he spat the word out like he could find Ren and kill him with that alone “will heal with time and care.” He took Poe gently by the shoulders and pushed him far enough that he could look him in his puffy, red-rimmed eyes. He pushed Poe’s thick hair off his forehead and smiled “Maybe the love you use to help you heal right now won’t just be your love for your family or your home planet. There are other types of love just as powerful… What was that nice boy’s name again?”

“Finn? Finn’s…” he almost said  _ just a friend _ , but he could practically  _ feel _ Rey poking her finger into his chest and see her threatening glare in the face of his lie. He let himself trail off.

“ _ Poe _ —life is too short. If I had waited until the danger had passed to be with your mother, we may have never had what we did. We may have never had  _ you _ .”

“Sounds like a tragedy.” Poe feebly attempted a joke, and it wasn’t funny at all, but Kes still grinned.

“Yes. I agree.” He looked into his son’s eyes, cupping the back of his head to ensure he met his gaze “ _Be_ _with him_. Don’t wait. Don’t think about Kylo Ren, or the Resistance, or _anything_ _else_ at least once a day—think of _him_. Love will help you heal, Kiddo.”

There was a tug under his breastbone, like a string around his heart reaching into the distance.

“Now, I think it’s time for you to get some sleep, and for me to get up off this duracrete.” Kes sighed, helping Poe stand while rambling on about his  _ old bones _ , and how he  _ didn’t understand how Poe could just sit on the ground like that _ , but Poe’s vision had popped with a galaxy’s worth of stars as he managed to get his feet under him. He shuddered out a long exhale, grateful for Kes’s sturdy grip on him as he swayed.

“Dad…” his head suddenly weighed as much as a Star Destroyer, his stomach seemed permanently lodged in his throat, and his heartbeat pulsed inside his skull.

“Poe?”

The world went dark slowly and then all at once, and the duracrete rushed up to meet him as he collapsed.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for this crazy ride, folks. I hope you loved reading this like I loved writing it. 
> 
> A wonderful commentor, Reiven, asked me about my "casting" of Kes and Shara. Kes, I picture as a more barrel-chested version of Antonio Banderas (I know he's Hispanic and not technically Latino, but I think he and Oscar Isaac share a similar nose).
> 
> Shara is a little different. Because she died in her mid thirties, she's not gonna look the same way I picture Kes. I actually think she would look like a young Mandy Gonzalez-- Broadway actress-- I think she's so stunning and I love her smile. 
> 
> If you want to take a look at them, you can check out my tumblr post about them! My username is aphroditestummyrolls!
> 
> As always: Comment if you like it! You guys made this process so much more fun and encouraging. I wrote over 20000 words in two weeks! I couldn't have done it without you. So, thanks. And let me know if you like it!

When Dr. Kalonia discharged him from the medbay the night before, his first thought was wondering whether Poe would be able to find him at his new quarters, or if he should try to find him before 0900, so his friend knew Finn was out. He worried over it longer and harder than was strictly necessary, but no one had to _know_. No one had to know that he was laying up at night thinking about Poe’s warm, tired gaze, concerning himself with things that weren’t his place.

Like wondering if Poe was even _trying_ to sleep, or if he was just wandering ( _bored and lonely_ , as he’d always say) and wouldn’t know where to find Finn when he needed him. _I mean, I did say that he could wake me up_ he thought, his mind racing again _I want him to wake me up and not be alone_ …

Turned out, Poe finding him wasn’t going to be too much of a problem.

 _Him_ finding _Poe_ , on the other hand, might give him a coronary.

He’d barely been out of the medbay for a _minute_ before he was running back in again, every worst-case scenario clogging up his mind and sending him on a frantic search through the familiar path all the way back to Private Room 12.

Finn didn’t take a single breath until he saw Poe, looking frail and gray in a way that Finn couldn’t remember him looking, even just the day before. Maybe it had been his smile that had kept him looking so much like himself, or the way he carried himself. But, with neither of them there now, Finn could do nothing but gape at his unconscious friend in the bed, feeling waves of dark, frightened energy from the Force around him.

“—ran a host of scans, took some blood samples. He’s just exhausted and dehydrated. _Very_ dehydrated. He has a low-level acidic irritation in his throat, so he’s been vomiting, too. Repeatedly.” Dr. Kalonia and the General were in the back corner of the room, looking over a holo of a generic human body, color coded with reds and yellows and blues. That must be Poe’s scan results. “I’ll get a fluid transfer started—depending on when he wakes up, we could get him back on his feet by tomorrow morning.”

He knew it was bad, but not like _this_.

“I knew it was bad, but not like _this_.” Leia ran a hand down her face, but a soft smile overtook her expression when Finn caught her eye, “I thought you might be stopping by, Finn.”

“Find the room alright?” Dr. Kalonia said drily “I wanted to make it easy for you, since you two are apparently taking turns being hospitalized.”

“He’s gonna be okay—c’mon in, no need to hover in the door.” Another voice chuckled.

Kes was sitting on the far edge of the bed, looking as pale and haggard as his son did, but he was smiling steadily at Finn like he had some type of secret.

It made Finn nervous all over again to have those eyes on him, but he didn’t dwell on it—not when Poe looked so vulnerable. He couldn’t help the slight quirk of his lips as he took it all in, a warm feeling settling in his gut despite the circumstances. It was the same feeling he always felt when Poe was around. He perched himself on the opposite side of Kes on the edge of the bed—the bed that had until last night been Finn’s— and forced himself to take a deep breath and not freak out. 

Poe’s hair was unstyled, he looked skinny, his face still looked ever-so-slightly puffy, as if he’d been crying. He had dark circles under his eyes, his lips were chapped and bitten, every inch of him heavy with sleep—but despite him looking so thoroughly dead to the world, Finn could _feel_ the conflict in Poe.

He took his friend’s slack hand in his from where it lay on top of the sheets, squeezing it in a way that he hoped could reassure.

Emotion flickered briefly across his face, but Poe was still again in seconds.

Leia had her hands in a steeple under her chin, looking at Poe with deep concern “Had I known it was this bad, I never would have waited as long as I did to bring you in, Kes.” She sighed out a long exhale “If it was this bad, I thought… I thought that _he_ would come to _me_.”

“Leia…” Kes sighed “We’re taking care of it now. That’s the important thing… you’ll have your pilot back in no time.”

Finn wasn’t really paying attention, too glued to Poe and the steady pulse of terror radiating off of him. He could feel it through their joined hands and a tight, nauseating vibration that settled itself right under Finn’s breastbone. Poe’s brow had furrowed and the heart monitor synced up to his body started to speed up. His breathing got more forced and when it did, the terrified energy only got more potent.

Finn, if he was being honest with himself, always felt these types of connections. They weren’t just with Poe, but with him it was so kriffing _strong_ … Rey had once described The Force to him as a series of strings that connected all species and things. Manipulating the Force was just about being able to play those strings, to send out and receive vibrations.

Finn had an idea. 

He took a deep breath and closed his eyes, focusing solely on the connection between him and Poe, like tiny threads binding them to each other. He was getting worse, he could feel it in the still, recirculated air of the medbay—a restless, _desperate_ energy. Finn’s heart clenched, and he could feel his palms getting clammy.

“Can we open the window?” he suddenly asked, cutting into the General and the doctor’s conversation.

“Why?”

“He likes it better that way.” Finn didn’t offer any other explanation, because Poe was starting to shift properly in his sleep, and his throat was working as if he couldn’t get enough air. He was dreaming, and it was a _bad_ one. “How long has he been unconscious?”

“Since early this morning…” Kes rasped “I brought him in around 0100-- we finally had a _long_ overdue conversation. It was overwhelming for him, I… I thought things were about to start getting better…”

“They are.” Finn said, not thinking as much as he was _feeling_ it. Everything was about to get better, because it _had_ to. Because he had an _idea_. “He told you about the Force-extraction on The Finalizer?”

“He told _you_ about the Force-extraction?”

Finn nodded, trying to breathe through the fresh wave of panic that ebbed and flowed to him from Poe’s restless body. Kes and Leia had noticed him shifting, crowding closer to the bed. Kes stroked back his son’s hair, but whatever the dream was, Poe was too far gone to be soothed by his father’s gentle touch.

Hesitantly at first, Finn took a proper seat on the cot, closing his friend’s hand in both of his. He took a deep breath, focusing on the strings of Force energy connecting him to Poe.

“Finn?” Leia’s voice sounded further off, like she was speaking from down the hall rather than just beside him.

“In the First Order, the Force was like a myth. I didn’t know the Force could be used for _that_ , I mean, yeah, I had heard stories about Force-extraction and what Ren was capable of… Poe didn’t tell me everything, but he told me enough.” Finn swallowed hard around his nerves, shoving them down so he could concentrate “I have an idea.”

He only hoped that he didn’t make this worse. Squeezing Poe’s hand as tightly as he dared, Finn breathed into the taut strings in the space between them.

He was just starting to inch his way through The Force, feeling like he was swimming upstream, the current of energy he was swept up in going from panic, to rage, to _agony_. It continued for what felt like forever, Finn’s head starting to ache as he finally approached the outermost edge of Poe’s mind.

Poe jolted into consciousness, a spike of painful energy crackling down the line from Poe to Finn like a short-circuiting fuse. Finn choked on acrid smoke, his eyes suddenly watering. He could hear the sound of Ren’s mechanical breathing, and a pulse of unbearable pressure bubbling through his mind like something was burrowing through him.

“NO!” Poe screamed, his voice a ragged howl, trembling. Kes was immediately there, speaking a language Finn didn’t know in soft tones, reaching out and only making him scream again.

“ _Poe_ —It’s me, hey… It’s Finn.” He said after the pain tore through him and he managed to get his ability to speak back. He didn’t move to get closer, because Poe was wild-eyed and desperate, his chest heaving. But, when he jerked back to tug his hand out of Finn’s he refused to let go, focusing hard and sending a tiny pulse of his own energy through the channel.

“Finn, he might not be able to take this—” Leia warned, but Finn ignored her in favor of sending Poe a wobbly smile.

He didn’t know what the Hell he was doing, but he just held Poe’s hand and reached out _so_ _gently_ with his mind, slipping as close to the core of Poe’s erratic energy as he could.

“Is that y- _you_?”

“Poe, I’m not gonna hurt you—let me in.”

“ _Finn_?”

“ _Yeah_ , I’m here…” he took a deep breath and reached out again, smoothing out the barest edge of Poe’s vibrations with his mind. Focusing with all his might, he tried to foster a calming, _safe_ sensation in his friend.

Poe was breathing a little easier, looking confused, eyes teary and wide as he realized what was happening “It’s still you, right?” his voice trembled.

Finn only nodded, closing his eyes and steeling himself against the stares of Kes and Leia, clearing his mind of anything that wasn’t the man in front of him. He couldn’t speak _and_ maintain his concentration, so he just nudged at Poe through The Force. He nudged and he kept every move as _soft_ around the edges as he could. Poe let out a strangled hiccup of a noise, his whole body shaking. Finn inched closer and closer, only to be nearly shocked out of his meditation when he felt the bed shift, and suddenly Poe’s trembling body was pressed against his chest.

He let go of the hand in his to wrap his arms around him, knowing he needed one last push to get Poe to breathe and _rest_ , so that things could _get_ _better_. The string attached to his fluttering heart was tight, vibrating in a musical chord that made Finn feel _warm_ and _loved_ and _safe_ , radiating through him and into Poe and back again.

He leaned forward, his free hand at the nape of Poe’s neck, fingers tangling with the sweat-damp curls there, and he pressed his lips solidly to Poe’s forehead.

If either of them made a sound as the Force energy crested over them, Finn couldn’t hear it. All noise was overtaken by the music of The Force coursing through the two of them, the ripples casting themselves out into Private Room 12, the medbay—maybe the whole base.

Finally, able to stop shaking and take a real, deep breath, Poe let out one last shiver and deflated against Finn’s chest.

His heartbeat receded from his ears and faded back into his chest where it belonged, and Finn was sapped of his ability to do just about anything but hold his head up and stare down at Poe. Poe, who was looking up at him with bleary brown eyes and a sleepy smile.

“You _really_ gotta… g’tta tell Rey ‘bout that… that _thing_ , Buddy…” he drawled, the cables of stress that had been holding him up for so long were finally cut, and it was as if the only presence keeping either of them upright or their eyes open was the short string between their hearts and sheer willpower.

“C’n we go t’sleep first?” he slurred, everything fuzzy and warm, and he buried his nose in his friend’s curly hair, too wiped out to do anything but hold onto him.

Finn had no clue how Poe found the reserve of strength to tug Finn up with him and flop down onto the bed, manipulating them both under the sheets to some degree. If he were more aware of his surroundings, he would’ve heard Leia’s snort at their dopey cuddling and felt Kes fix the covers over them. He would’ve heard Dr. Kalonia come back and say “Well, how am I supposed to get this port in Dameron’s arm with him all curled up like that?” but, he also would’ve seen the soft, happy grin on her face as she said it.

Finn would’ve probably been hopelessly embarrassed if he could think beyond the press of Poe’s body flush against his side, or the warm puff of his breath where his nose was nuzzled into the crook of Finn’s neck.

Or maybe he’d be just as incandescently happy as he actually felt as his exhausted, heavy self in that moment. Finn would never know, he supposed, but he could guess pretty kriffing well.

* * *

The first thing he was aware of was the lack of a headache splitting his skull.

The sound of the jungle, full of birds and insects and _life_ , reached him next, through a haze of other white noise—was he _home_?

Then, he heard ships and speeders and running footsteps back and forth.

 _D’Qar_ he thought to himself, his world still black as night and unwilling to open his eyes _I’m on base…_

A warm, midday-type breeze moved the still air of wherever he was, banishing the thought of the stale, bloody smell of his old interrogation chamber… lifting his spirits and making him feel _safe_.

He was _rested_. Poe was _awake_. His muscles were lax against a soft mattress and his breath entered and exited his lungs in slow, deep pulls—he couldn’t taste the smoke from his burning life. There was _no_ _fire_ anymore.

“I know you’re awake, Kiddo.”

There was a smile in the familiar voice that broke into the peace of the moment, and Poe felt his mouth twitch with his own smile before cracking one of his eyes open to fix on Kes.

He was vaguely aware of the white walls, smell of bacta, and a heartbeat reverberating from a monitor and into his ears. _His_ heartbeat.

 _Medbay_ …

He thought about trying to say something to give his poor dad some proof of life, but licking his lips and opening his mouth to speak only made him acutely aware that his mouth was so dry that it felt _fuzzy_. He wheezed and coughed, and only managed to lift his hand in a half-aborted wave in Kes’s general direction.

A cup was pressed into that hand, and he felt Kes’s support on the back of his head as he tilted himself up to drink the cool water inside. It took several long gulps and a fresh cup before he started to feel adequately rehydrated, clearing his throat before finally rasping a word out.

“Thanks Dad.”

“ _Hm_.” he hummed, smiling “You gave us all quite the scare.”

He _remembered_. The hangar, the tears, the talking—oh _Kriff_ , the _stuff he’d said_ —and the duracrete floor…

“How did I…”

“I brought you here—you need to eat something, Poe. I was expecting carrying you to be harder.” He scrubs his face with his hand, and the stress in the lines of his face make Poe’s heart clench. “You had a bit of an episode here yesterday morning when you woke up from a nightmare, but you had a _friend_ swoop in and save the day.” He winked, and Poe only lifted a bemused brow “You’ve been sleeping for nearly 32 hours.”

_32 hours._

He did wake up before, he remembered it... Or was that another dream? It had been a good one for once, Finn had—

It took him longer than he’d ever admit that he didn’t realize he wasn’t _alone_ in the medbay cot.

Poe turned to look beside him slowly, not daring to hope, even while Kes was rolling his eyes fondly. Poe was probably a sight to behold—his hair a fluffy nest of curls, a crease on his face from where his cheek had rested on Finn’s chest…

Something big, and warm and wonderful filled him until he felt like he glowed—Finn was _still_ _there_. It was _real_.

Finn was still, but awake, stretching lazily before he looked up at him through sleepy eyes, just like he had when he’d woken up in that same bed one week ago, but so much had _changed_ since then.

“Hi.” Poe stumbled out.

“Hi.” His voice was half a whisper and half a snore, his hand absently trailing its way up Poe’s spine. He grinned like he was drunk, and Poe couldn’t help the bark of fond laughter, every little thing he’d hoped for suddenly feeling closer and realer than before. Everything that he remembered from the past 24 hours – well, he supposed it was more like 48 or 50, but it didn’t _really_ matter -- came in fits and flashes of sensation, but all he knew was that he felt better than he had in months, and it’s all because of _him_.

“Did you… what did you do?” Poe asked, incredulous as he laid back down, propping himself up to look down at his soft, smiling face “My headache’s gone.”

“I… I figured that if Ren could… If he could go into your brain like that to hurt you, maybe I could help you.” The hand on his back moved up to tangle in his hair, and Poe let out a soft sound that couldn’t be called anything but a purr. “So, you’re feeling better? It worked?”

He only nodded, a wave of warm, fuzzy sleepiness washing over him as Finn worked his fingertips into his scalp. He dropped his face back into the crook of his friend’s neck, just reveling in the idea of not being delirious or in pain for the first time in what felt like forever. He felt like the war was already won just hearing Finn laugh, jostled by it as his body flopped back over the other man’s chest.

A loud _HARRUMPH_ nearly sent Finn jumping out of his skin—and the bed—tugging the port in Poe’s arm as he jolted the both of them.

He looked up and glared at his smirking father, still sitting in the chair on the far side of the room with an empty water cup in his hand.

“ _Yes_?”

“I’m gonna go—”

“Yeah. Capital idea.”

The smirk only intensified “—and I’m gonna get the Doc and the General, so they know you’re awake.” Kes chuckled, standing and stretching languidly as he made his way to the doorway. Agonizingly slowly. “So…” he gestured vaguely to him and Finn with the empty cup in his hand, that _Dad_ look firmly back in place “Nothing _too_ crazy—you’re still attached to a heart monitor, y’know—”

“ _Dad_!”

“Okay, _okay_! I’m going… Welcome to the family, Finn.”

With a wink, he let the door hiss closed behind him, and Poe still flinched a little at the sound but the reaction wasn’t anywhere near as visceral as when he’d heard it on The Finalizer, or even just last week. He couldn’t be bothered with the past. Not with his present and future laying right there in the bed with him, looking up at him with the last remains of his embarrassed smile, becoming something sweeter.

“You okay?”

“Yeah… I mean, I had an idea when you were talking before, but… Were you ever gonna mention the whole _Force-Sensitive_ thing, or was I just supposed to figure that out when you were inside my brain?”

Finn only gaped, his mouth working around air for a second that Poe enjoyed far too much, before finally sputtering out “Ye-yeah, I was. I just… I wanted to be sure that that was what it was, I wanted to talk to Rey first.”

Poe nodded, biting his chapped lip as he took in the strength of his jaw and the warmth in his eyes-- he was so… His mind was still too overtired to think of the right word. Maybe the right word didn’t exist, maybe it was just _Finn_.

“I mean, I… I kinda thought it was just with you. For a while, at least. That pull in my chest, I only ever felt it when you were around, at first—I really had to think about it to feel it with anybody but you. With you, it was…”

“Natural.” He whispered, the breath taken right out of his lungs by the intense focus of Finn’s gaze on his face “It feels natural. It’s just… my mom, she was Force-Sensitive and she…” he swallowed, looking down at that face and feeling a telltale tug around his own heart “She used to say that that was what love was.”

The silence wasn’t daunting—it never was, with Finn. He looked down at him and watched his eyes flicker over his face. The hand that was still in his hair came to cup his cheek, and Poe could hear the heart monitor pick up faster.

“She was right.” He whispered back.

His lips were full and gentle on Poe’s. It started as just a dry press of lips before they slotted together properly, sending a tremor through him and he took a deep breath of _Finn_ — laundry soap and jungle air, a hint of blaster fire on a night’s breeze. Poe could’ve cried, it was all so _good_.

Neither of them were awake when Leia and the good Doctor came back to Private Room 12. They’d have more than enough time to ask their questions, assign their missions, and fight their war. Poe was tired. He was so tired, and for once, he could _finally_ _sleep_.


End file.
